Under Your Armor of Anger

005

In my pocket, I keep regrets.

Now and then, I take them out,

hold them in my hand,

and I look at them.

Their edges are sharp.

They cut deep and leave scars.

Constantly reminding me

I failed to see

that though you seemed stronger,

you hid a fragile heart of glass,

under your armor of anger.

It’s almost Father’s Day, and every time that day would come around, I’d vacillate and wonder if I should call my dad.  We’ve always had a tumultuous relationship, sprung from being so much alike, in so many ways.  It’s strange how most children would never admit that to look at their parent, they could also see a part of themselves.  I remember saying to myself over and over that I would not, could not ever be like him.  He passed away last April, and having heard stories about him through the eyes of relatives and close friends, it is only now I can accept the fact that my dad and I were more similar than we were different.

Happy Father’s Day, Daddy.  I see you in me.  Thank you.  

8 comments

  1. Thank you so.much Rose for leading me to this poem. such a sweet bitter poem for your dad. and while it is true that we despise them for being so ridiculously strict sometimes. ..but at the end of the day they only wants the best for us..

    and when we became parents ourselves we begun to realize we are our own parents now
    ..

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply to oglach Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s