Full sick I am,
heart like a stamped upon grape,
head lost in the backwaters
where regret dwells like ancient pike
eager to feast.
I have lost the path.
I have sundered the light.
I have become my father
in the eyes of my son!
Full sick I am,
juices dried up,
thoughts - a pack of barking dogs
fighting over my bones.
I have failed the test.
I have embraced the dark.
I hear my father’s voice
as I shout at my son!
Full sick I am,
tired to the core,
shedding tears at night
while my son sleeps -
wanting to embrace him
promising to manage things better
and knowing
it is not easy to untangle knots
woven in me
years before
my son ever saw the light of day.
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