Fathers

Fathers

Father, yes, but not fathers
In the plural.
Can one generalise about fathers?
Are they our black shadows
Beating down the years?

Father, you are still around.
Every day I think of you,
But you have gone from my dreams.
You died nearly twenty years ago,
Without so much as a wave
Of your pocket-handkerchief.

Fathers,
Father.
We all have fathers and mothers
Who, with any luck, loved us.

We go out to fight for our fathers.
Caloo calay,
“Beware the Jabberwocky, my son,
The eyes that glare,
The jaws that snatch.”

Sons of fathers,
We become fathers in our turn
Except me,
I have no child,
No boy to shine resplendent
Like the sun in a dark sky.
I have no child,
No girl for my fey princess.
I am childless,
I mourn for unborn children,
Fathers show us the way.

Christopher Baily
18 January 1999

© estate of christopher baily