Don’t tell me to calm down
He’s the one angry for no
aint nobody done nothin’ to
If he wanted a clean house
thought about it before he
had six kids
that aint even my stuff
I can’t wait to get up outa
Micah, can’t you see what’s happening?
You’re becoming just like him.
NO I’M NOT!!!!!!
I’ve been avoiding this
letter for years, because I promised myself if I ever wrote this it would be honest, the full picture.
But sometimes, things intending to heal
only peel scabs off of old wounds,
and that is exactly what I am
determined not to do.
This is not a comprehensive list of
Lord knows you could do the same to me
and love keeps no record of wrong,
but my heart has and for that I ask
I was afraid you might misunderstand me, so I convinced myself it’d be more respectful to wait till you were home in glory and tell our story in your remembrance. But there’s nothing respectful about cowardice, and if I believe poetry can bring healing I must speak it while you can still hear me.
I write poetry, I write songs, I’m becoming just like you and that is a
compliment, not an insult.
I was wrong.
I keep starting over ‘cause I don’t know how to finish, I don’t know what else to say. I don’t wanna start an argument that goes nowhere. I just want you to hear.
Dear Dad, Dad, you’re dear to me.
Dear Dad, Sincerely - Micah.
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