The Request--poem

What would I write for you,
As the words impatiently throb in my fingertips,
yearning to unleash onto your vision and permeate your
memory?
Could they flow as I exhale,
dance across the page,
or linger on my lips—
no more than a whisper in the private hours of the night?

Would my limbs express what lyrics
my blood demands—
could any music assuage the racing
internal melody?

Yet, my core threatens to burst
through the membrane of my shield
as you stand before me,
watching,
mute.

While my frame freezes,
the notes that were my gifted words
beneath my consciousness roll by—
some waltzing to the dance of tomorrow,
as others creep to the dirge of yesterday.
Your fingertips disturb the entrancement
holding my present captive.
With a twinkle in your eye, a curve in your lip,
my fingers meet yours to do what my words failed to.

The rumbling beat thrums between our chests,
urging me on to unleash the letters
forming the sweetest request.

Can you feel it, the percussion,
the temptation to move through rhythmic time
together—
shall we discover tomorrow’s melody
as one—
shall we do what I could not on my own,
at least not without my muse—
Shall we dance?

The Lesson-poem

For you, Daddy

You must know
that looking at you
is like staring into
any given mirror.
The love inside
and behind these eyes
is right there,
reflected into your very own.

You must know
the mem’ry of your kind face
hasn’t died-
I see it still Upon my own-
more so when I’ve something to be
proud of.

You must know
though I didn’t cry on the day,
which I regard as the time of night
when monsters roam,
and I’m blind though I try
to fumble around
for some semblance of
Life, Vitality, and Hope,
I suffocate for what feels like forever,
trapped in abysmal agony,
only to wake up to
reality
as if someone threw me
in frigid waters-

I’ve absorbed it all,
every drop I could,
then I let them pour through
though I couldn’t help it.
I’ve been your waterfall
whether you like it
(or not)
but you must know,
You must know.

You must know
that the childhood dream
of dressing in Love-
enrobed in White,
has turned to ash-
for it won’t be your hand
guiding mine down the path
to Tomorrow.

You must know
your name nigh became
taboo,
a ghost
we’re all too scared to acknowledge,
for the pain will rush back,
my hair will stand up,
the Chill will return,
then I’ll fumble again.

You must know
that despite all this nonsense,
despite all these words
that are feeble compared
to the legacy you bestowed me,
flowing through these grateful
Veins,
I’ll never know
how to express
how much I love you-
I’ll never know
how long
the World will last,
how long
time will drone on,
then cruelly whip past-

You must know
that’s how long I’ll hold you in
my heart.

You must know,
and if you don’t,
here it is,
here it lives.