A sirens call, a poem for my father | The Art of Poetry | Page 1

I feel like my words are that of ash
A sharp sudden wind and they no longer exist
Are they so fine they slip between the parts that acknowledged them?
Or are they just insignificant?
A question I wished to ask myself
Yet I fear I will not like the answer I give
I call out for your help
And you do not hear me
I beg for your safety net
And in it you have cut a hole
Am I so far from shore you do not wish to reel me in?
Your defense was your lack of training
Your lack of knowledge
But to fish is nothing at all
You set and wait for a pull
And from there your words like a hook to reel my brain from the depths it has traveled
Instead you veer off coarse
Your boat to catch between the rocks
I cannot help myself
Smiling as I hear the calls
I would have saved you
I should have saved you
But you would have starved me then too
To let me drown until I become that of the creatures at sea
My words not but a whisper in the wind
A call for love that never shall be
A sirens call.

#A sirens call, a poem for my father