You see me.
pull me into your embrace.
Say “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
But, it’s not like I’ve lost some useless item.
It’s not like I’ve lost the war.
You died, you are dead, why can’t they understand?
I won’t cry when they ask how you died.
I’ll say it’s okay even when it’s not.
Even when they press about your death,
I’ll make up some story, paint you out to be a hero.
Wouldn’t want to shame my mother.
Why do I have to grieve?
It’s not like I even knew you.
Why does it feel like my heart is missing?
I have convinced myself that everything is fine.
The crimes of my father, shouldn’t affect my valor.
Why should I lie and say I miss a ghost?
Why should I go fall apart for you?
When you couldn’t even keep it together for me?
I will not be the pity-seeking daughter,
looking for sympathy from strangers,
who think you were some kind of hero,
that in the end, left her all alone.
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wow could I relate to THIS. Poetry should do that sometimes. Just excellent…for the simple reason that it’s a shared experience.
I’m glad you enjoyed and were able to relate to my poem! Thanks for the read 🙂