Nineteen years ago,

Your son was born,

A beautiful boy with

Serious brown eyes and

Contempt for parental contact.

 

Seventeen years ago,

I entered the world,

An ugly pink piglet with

Bright blue eyes and

A fear of being let go.

 

Thirteen years ago,

Your youngest came,

A pretty girl

Looking as I had three weeks

In and acting as old.

 

Three years ago,

Your wife left,

A radiant woman with

The world at her feet and

Power in her teeth.

 

Three years ago,

A new wife came,

Young and frail

With serious brown eyes and

A craving for maternal love.

 

One year ago,

Your youngest left,

A pretty girl

Looking five years older than

Me and acting as so.

 

Two months ago,

Your son left,

A handsome man with

Cruel fate in his eyes

And bitterness on his lips.

 

One hour ago,

You sat across from

Me with a little boy in

Your lap with radiant,

Brown eyes.

 

You smiled and played

Letting him swing from

Your arms and over the

Gate towards glistening

Water below.

 

But here comes his mother,

A frail woman with husband beside,

Close to but not your wife,

As he is close to you

But not your son.

 

The pain in your eyes

As he is taken

Away for the day and

You return home with

Your only remaining child.

 

A child who is no

Longer young but the

One who stayed,

Your enveloping love around

Me and her cold gaze piercing through.

 

The chance at maternal fulfilment

Stolen through an

Old man and an old

Daughter who will never

Love her so.

 

The curse of a second

Marriage that will never be

Fruitful as she prays.

And you, my father,

Are stuck in the middle.

 

For the purpose of union

Is to create life;

A symbol of your love,

Of the wedding vows,

But that can never be.

 

For after three children,

That right was willingly revoked.

And after decades of

Content, the wound is

Reopened.

 

After decades of care,

The seeds refuse a

Weed in their garden, in

Their family, in

Their home.

 

To dirty what was the

Youngest’s room or play

In the eldest’s

To never know the

Middle as it grows without her.

 

To be left by a

Father too soon due

To time,

The ticking bomb in the

Old man’s chest.

 

Alone with a frail

Mother on a teacher’s salary

With a broken heart,

Insufficient funds,

And not enough love to give.

 

Alone without siblings,

For the blossomed flowers

Want nothing with

The cross-bred

Weed.

 

But the light in your eyes

When you hold that

Bouncing bundle is too

Bright to deny and too

Radiant to hate.

 

What right do the grown

Plants have to deny

Sunlight to the

Buds ready to flourish

In their likeness.

 

My father,

What right do I have to

Dictate your life

And your bed

By what I believe is right?

 

What right do I have

To deny the product

My unconditional love as

I have my

Siblings before?

 

Let this flower shed

A petal to shine

Light upon the seed

Because it is part of

You.

Because I love you.