Those Years

Nothing to ask for except the memories

of the time I have spend with my father.

First five years of my life.

I do not remember him, I couldn’t recollect him.

He’s just the framed photograph of a man

Resembling him is me, his son;

He’s just the mythological character

whom people talk of, recollect the time.

Envy. It is envious often when this happen.

Nothing I’ve been asking for.

I am not asking for return to the time,

but, the ability to recollect of that hazed

golden webbed misted five years.

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Written for Day 7 of National/Global Poem Writing Month 2019.

Prompt:

Our prompt for the day (optional, as always) is also inspired by McKibbens, who posted this thought on her Twitter account a few months back:

What do you deserve? Name it. All of it. What are you ready to let go of? Name that too. Then name the most gentle gift for yourself. Name the brightest song your body’s ever held. Summon joy like you would a child; call it home. It wanders, yes. But it’s still yours.

Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of gifts and joy. What would you give yourself, if you could have anything? What would you give someone else?

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