5 Long Years

Since you asked me for that,
The small treasure I'd hoarded after the 11th celebration of my birth.
Since you stole from me
The ocean of compassion I held for you.
5 Long Years ago. Baba.


The forest is dark, cold, unforgiving, and bitter.
I am a child, walking with my Guardian, tasked to keep me safe,
To protect me from the evils lurking in this mist.
Beasts with a thousand eyes and a thousand fangs,
Tear at the ground, rabid, eager to claw at my back.

But whilst you are there, they cannot touch me.
With your bright light, broad as a coast line, deep as its waters, safe as an island.

A smile.

In your long Grey Armor,

Second-Hand Jacket.

In your Red Chariot,

Peugeot 406.

Crashed so many times, never a graze on your steel skin. Untouchable.
Unforgiveable.

You held my hand, as I trod the ground in this new world and
Grasped at the moss around my feet.
You stepped further away, yet never too far,
Always stood by my side, your hug, a shield,
Always a flame turned to the evils of this forest.

11 years walking with you, I run back, after venturing further,
A Siren, bearing hooks for eyes, and a knife to it's own stomach,
Has caught my Saint, the one who lost the need for protection long ago.
I run to the life-line, screaming for you.
But you are no-where to be found now.

All I owned, all I knew to be true, you had taken,
And vanished from this world, taking all you ever were.
I sat, slumped, on a tree-root, cold, alone, with only the Siren for company.
The Saint would have helped me, yet he was ensnared by It's deceitful gaze.
I called out for you, a thousand times, in vain.

Now, I stand tall, carry my own sword,

These words.

Stood not alone, as you did

With friends and loves.

With more light than you could ever bear.

With the knowledge I begged for from you.

The scars you left, deeper than any beast of this forest could tear. Healed.
Yet in my sleep, as I drifted in the moonlight,
They split asunder.

Despite yourself, Father, I miss you.