Poem: Phantom Limbs

Do you miss me, father
The one that bends
and counts the steps to the end
Gray skies and monumental stones
The landscape is sad and painful
But the blood is not red

Do you miss me, father
The night felt heavy on the guts
crystalline mist from mouth to windows
I sat in the park where the leaves collapse
And a pigeon was begging me for food
With its anonymous eyes
Looking at you without looking

Do you miss me, father
I’m in a city with no name
Walking and wondering with no hope
Phantom limbs surround me
as if you were holding me tight

Do you miss me, father
Today I think of you with love
and I absolve you for daring to leave
The attractive silhouette of grieving
To seek your presence among the beasts

Do you miss me, father
When the coffee gets cold
and the only sound is your own breathing
Because I do, I miss you
but I forgive you.

To dad, on his 74th birthday and the 21st anniversary of his passing.

Published by Cherry Adam

Moody experimentalist. Hypersensitive & Noir moments Poetry, Essays & Sound Experimentation Freelance Music Journalist

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