Comment on this article

Papa Did You Know
by Sharon Auberle

the moment I stopped loving you?
Was I still a toddler,
scorning your open arms,
small enough that you could
think      maybe
it was only a game?
Or was it the year
I stopped believing in Santa
and happy-ever-after?
Memory lessens with time,
but does not pale the pain.
Oh my father, I want to return
to that first time you held me,
unwrapped the pink shells of my feet,
checked for the short second toe.
Did you smile when you found it?
Or when you saw the family nose
or how I latched onto your finger
like a fierce baby tiger?
Today, I'm wishing
I could have crawled into you then,
carved out a niche, curled up safe
in the cave of your heart–
our shared blood all I needed
for nourishment
till we'd passed the bitter years
and my own heart was whole still,
muscled strongly and warm
because when you left that day
a piece of it grew cold
and nothing since, Papa,
not mother, not lover,
not child or friend,
has warmed it      ever      again.


Return to:

[New] [Archives] [Join] [Contact Us] [Poetry in Motion] [Store] [Staff] [Guidelines]