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Poem: Dad You Failed Me, But What Gifts Were Bestowed September 2, 2010

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Mystical, Personal Journey, Poem-A-Day, Uncategorized.

Your funeral was the moment
I felt closest to you, Dad.
I always knew some things
about you, it turns out. Playful
Monkey, you had a spirit
under the Budweiser Bravado
that just wanted to goof around.
The part of me that is Type B –
I gotat that from you.
I empathize with how you were

in the civilized world. The cave
in your back where a spine
ought to have been – I have
that too. It’s awful, but you
knew that. The drink did numb
that raw feeling, I’m sure.
I have moved away from all
medic, compelled by a ken after
my birthright, Happiness.

Part of your gifts to me phoenixed
out of failures. The utter sputter
of a project gone bad, then BAM!
of palm on kitchen table
upon hearing of an error I made.
Your surpising sadness you
tried to hide when you understood
I was just like you. Destined
for a life at others’ whims.

You couldn’t prevent these things.
I know that now, I’ve had to go
on this journey blindly,
willfully. Blow-and-go, you
accused me. I felt such a hurt
at that, but we know you saw,
you understood, you felt afraid
for me, and it made you mad.
A dragon lived in me.

And I was the last to know. Today,
amidst these men who come
together dick-to-dick to heal
our wounded boysleves, to foster
a sacred erotics rooted in our roots,
to reclaim our innocent black hearts
hidden in the muck and falsity
of our enthralled artifices,
I will face my fears at last.

You saw your work as a failure.
But you were also so so denied
a means to claim the birthright.
We’re so easily impressed
and helpless young. Unless
safeguarded by wiser elders
we become enmeshed in the land
of not-good-enough.

You just followed the pop-sci
proppaganda of the age. Deny
your common sense, the experts
have all the answers! Sterile
form of mysticism devoid of heart.
only too late did you realize
the error of your ways. Even that
was covered in muck. You thought
my gayness was the issue.

Like you, I got suckered, Dad.
The bait-and-switch of debt
overtook me, and a virtual
Marshalsea has arisen
all about this foolish God.
This Deity’s journey has me
to follow a labrious trek.
Hercules at Mayan Calendar’s end.
Accelerating time, gone mad.

A most bitter gift, Dad, given
unconsciously as it had to to be.
Before you passed, I knew
the Alz was a graceful reward.
The wounded child cried “Unfair!
How come he gets to forget?
He should suffer the harm caused me.”
O how you suffered too.

A moment of generosity, small,
that fractal of power, never
to be forgotten.  I toiled hard
for that chess set, backyard sun.
I sure learned the value
of a 1980 dollar. And off we went
to the toy store.  Surprise, you pulled
out your wallet and splurged. I got to
keep my hardwon gelt.

I do know you loved me.
I do know you wanted the best.
I do know you failed yourself.
I do know your dad failed you.
I do know you couldn’t escape it.
I do know you wished you could chuck it.
I do know these things and more
Because I feel them all cellularly.
Skin, head, heart, cock.  All.

Somehow, ancestral blood lightning
courses through these veins. No
awareness could get through for you.
My suffering has sparked an awakening.
I’m here to heal a family wound
and boldly dive into the cesspool
to reclaim the split-offs, discards
that I’ve needed to hold dear.
No division, no conquests. Wholeness.

And it began awhile ago.
A tree started its slow growth
the awareness of self-loss
with you, Mom & Sis over phone
that miracle day I called you
ending five years of silence.  A seed
in the ground broke the alar.
Bold young World Tree grows, shines
with mana, divine radiance.

I’ve learned not to slay dragons
but to discover their lessons.
Transform and puriify intents
away from Darth Vader rage.
I reclaim my two year-old
and I father myself in process.
The man I’m to be emerges
and the mourning dove you came
to be becomes proud.

I trust you’ve become aware
how powerful I’ve always been.
Somehow you and Mom both knew
I was to have a hard life of progress.
That I have it in me to succeed
on terms that only I can set.
You challenged me with raw words.
Grieved at some groaner choices
Watched helpless somtimes to help me.

And today, a new man comes forth.
The one who was always beside.
Best, brightest future Self
speeds backwards in time,
a Gandalf to guide this God
inot the mantle of his largesse.
Generosity, glorious sex, healing,
teaching, making soul-full art.
The path alights itself.

So thank you Dad, Mr. Play Monkey
The spirit lives on in me, quiet
at times, Coyote at others.
I’m sure you’ve still got tricks
up your sleeve.  The ancestral realm
flimsy veil partitioning after all.
Perhaps one day you’ll poop on me?
Some sign to watch it?

You carry on in me every time I hear
that comforting coo, see a pair
of these reassuring feathered
sentinels that appear at choice
moments.  You went backwards in time
yourself, appearing that day in Madison,
when Michael and I cast a circle.  Thank
you.  Today I live in the mystery.
Having outgrown mere answers.

Written on August 25, 2010, Easton Mountain, Greenwich, New York



1. Jeanne LaPorta Clark - September 3, 2010

Richard, I am in awe – thank you.

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