for Alex, who said he hates me
It weighs heavy on me,
the things that you say
when you’re angry.
How mean you get in a hurry.
How blurry your love seems
at times. Your tongue becomes poison;
betrays our lives together …
we’ve been just fine. But
at times like these, I’m lost.
It’s the cost of being your Father,
not your friend. I know.
For now at least, my love,
I will take your slings and arrows,
ignore the million cuts –
I’ll tend instead to other seeds
I’ve planted … and hope for you,
strong roots, water, air and plenty of room,
And of course, a great bloom.
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2017. All rights reserved.