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There Were Robins

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by

WhyteYote

Gallery

There were robins out your window
On the day you passed away
And the ground
Winter-browned
Unyielding

Just so much a plaything for Boreas himself
Tenuous til April, cold but no snow
Nothing green
In this scene
Out of Kafka

I had sat, you had lain
In somnolent fluorescent light
Barely moving
Further proving
Transcendence waited in the wings

You held my hand, I wet your lips
Mortality had seized your form
So very pale
So very frail
What happened to the man I knew

What happened to the man who grew
Me up in his own image
Faithful son
And I won
Accolades to make you proud

Like anyone who’s in the know
I craved to see my old man pleased
Took the test
Did my best
Here’s trusting that it was enough

I thanked you for the Halloweens
My precious treasured memories
Hope you heard
Those last words
Because your chest had finally stilled

I only ever saw you cry
A couple times in front of me
The stoic dad
Who could be sad
If only he could find the tools

Left at the end of the sentence
A period, a final draft
Every little
Jot and tittle
Hand it in, your work is done

There were robins out your window
Though you couldn’t hear the song
No more pain
No more shame
I’ll take the torch and carry through

And know that I’ll remember you.

1944-2022

Keywords

male 1,220,692, wolf 196,908, male/male 129,024, hybrid 71,163, m/m 51,499, m 29,660, coyote 12,470, father/son 4,182, father and son 2,263, dad/son 1,256, coyolf 285, memorial 202, fathers day 188, grief 162, father's day 55

Details

Type: Picture/Pinup

Published: 1 month, 2 weeks ago

Rating: General

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Karizma

1 month, 2 weeks ago

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This killed me. Thank you.

kewne777

4 weeks, 1 day ago

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Had to stifle me breaking down while reading your poem a couple times, but at the end it broke me. Feeling glad that you had such a dad. Makes a manyfold potency that the best mine could do, was breaking down in tears at Christmas evening when he was completely drunk and his iron barriers broke down and he remembered trashing me up, physically, as well as did his very best to tear the mirror of my soul into uncountable pieces, only because I wasn't worth what he expected and was a damaged good after I was raped at five years old. A lesson in hell for a decade until my parents got divorced - but these wounds will never heal. I'll turn 40 in a few weeks. He did it, much harsher, to another of his sons, once again. And although we don't have any form of contact for seven years come Fall - he's now diagnosed with some form of his brain turning into a sponge because of his excessive and daily alcoholism and strong smoking (like 60+ cigarettes every day for surely 50 years+) will consume him, my wounds will never heal. Neither will those of my estranged half-brother. Be sure to keep your daddy forever in your heart and soul Yote. Feel hugged. Will, red Taurenbear from Germany

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