If I came home with
Good grades in English and Drama,
He’d sneer and ask why I couldn’t get them in maths,
Made me sit at the table,
Before congealing meals,
Until I finished or mum,
She left him because of me,
Put herself through hard times,
I’ve never been able to express
How much it meant to me,
I saw him yesterday,
Wizened like a rotten apple,
In a mobility scooter,
I’d long since let go of the anger,
Like taking off shoes a size too small
I said hello and caught the bus
My life is good now,
And I became all he resented,
And all he was,
I wish him peace because there were
Are other fathers I’ve learned from,
They’re here, when I look in the mirror,
And my mum is fine,
I’ve learned from him,
And I wonder if he saw,
How I met his gaze,
And the way I carried myself,
As I walked on.
If not, it doesn’t matter.
I chose myself and those I love,
Over hating him.
2 thoughts on “Bryan”
“Wizened like a rotten apple…” “…taking off shoes a size too small…” Intelligently reflective piece. Excellent.
Thank you so much. He was a figure of fear to me growing up but I found, over the years, a measure of forgiveness and acceptance because I figured out I wasn’t the problem.