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Image for the poem Father

Father's Day

In those final moments before death comes,  
will I taste my father’s lust and know past hurts,  
or will what was harmful be turned to goodness?  
Will the same passions that sustained me in life,  
sustain me through death?  
 
In those final moments,  
will the songs sung in childhood  
lift my sprit on that path from  
known to unknown?  
Will I know the hand  
pressing my chest?  
Or, is death a passing  
from forgotten to remembered?
Written by Nizana (Lauryn)
Published | Edited 20th Jun 2023
Author's Note
This morning I reread mother's poem, "How Do We Die?"  I sometimes taste a bitter saltiness in my mouth when remembering my father and childhood.  I've dreamed that that I'm a child and he comes into my room.  He was not a good man and I wonder if I've repressed some memories of him.
I edited the photo from one my mother had of me as a child.
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