Dear Daddy?
Can I still call you by such a name?
When over a decade has passed
and you lay under ground,
kafan over body,
Grief does not come to mind when in thought of you,
Only a rejoice of you in rememberance,
Despite falsified time,
your flowered respect continues to bloom,
your name never undermined,
come visit me in my garden,
A sanctury of mine,
that you manifested,
I still manage to write you letters,
A fragmented vision of two eyes and a smile,
Strung off a pictures I gaze at on indian summers,
You,
On Sundays, Jamaican jerk over BBQ,
Kevin Lyttle being blasted out on Beach, while white people overlooked,
Glaring,
Wondering what type of family has just approached,
I wonder how overnight my whole life threw itself into the gutter,
The only thought I screamed when I found out you were to die
Was ‘ How can I live without you’,
Because you were our saving grace,
As a child, I used to wait to hear your car park up,
To wait till the hour struck 5
Mummy would scream and beat us until then,
what an hour I would wait for,
Then it all flew away,
Like feathers in the wind,
You drifted,
Only God knows what he wanted you for,
rather than 3 weeping children,
You left when we needed you most,
Till now my throat closes up,
A month more, and you would have divorced,
Instead, 7 years passed.
Whilst our family onlooked,
Tried to help but couldn’t,
Fed us but couldn’t,
Gave us hope but couldn’t,
Kept me alive, but should not have,
Kept making me return to the same torture home,
Forced forgiveness,
repetitive cycles
As if I was in the wrong,
Even now they do it,
Watch me shake in front of my abuser,
Tell me she is my mother,
Tell me I cannot leave,
Even as an adult I am afraid of them,
I have stopped crossing borders for their love,
I now no longer make myself a target of bullets that seep from their mouths,
Then they apologise,
Again,
I sit wondering what type of plan God is overseeing?
My Daddy
A relationship only existing in death.
it is a dream I have on constant reloop,
you,
in your golden hour,
bold, firm, a Man of Divinity,
What greatness you have formed,
out of hell.
Kafan * White cloth used at funerals