Your poem is more than a poem, a heart song…a very sad and tormented hymn of sorrow, a lament….I read it three times and lived each minute of the grief expressed and can attest to the truth of how much is ingrained before we have lived a grain of our own time, if ever…words and gestures had been used as weapons in your life instead of precious gifts as in the way you choose to use them….write on…as a catharsis for you and as a gift in poetry for your readers…Bravo!
My father loved me and tried hard to be a good father. He was also depressed, alcoholic, and full of rage. He dispensed and withdrew his approval as a weapon, and that’s why I still hunger for his approval and need somebody’s permission for everything I do.
You are the one who must give yourself permission and approval from now on. But of course, you know that. This poem is so very powerful and it’s a gift as Barbara said to both your readers and to yourself! Bravo.
Jan
SunWinks! 
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Your poem is more than a poem, a heart song…a very sad and tormented hymn of sorrow, a lament….I read it three times and lived each minute of the grief expressed and can attest to the truth of how much is ingrained before we have lived a grain of our own time, if ever…words and gestures had been used as weapons in your life instead of precious gifts as in the way you choose to use them….write on…as a catharsis for you and as a gift in poetry for your readers…Bravo!
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What a beautiful comment! Thank you!
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Just gripping. I forgot to breathe.
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Thank you, Wil!
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I don’t believe I went through quite what you have, but I still long to hear those words, ‘I love you’ from my mother.
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My father loved me and tried hard to be a good father. He was also depressed, alcoholic, and full of rage. He dispensed and withdrew his approval as a weapon, and that’s why I still hunger for his approval and need somebody’s permission for everything I do.
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Powerful words and images of a life that fits, so real, so lived.
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To me, that’s what poetry is, getting as close to the bone as I can. But not just venting,
getting to the heart of the thing.
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Heartbreaking, powerful poem! Why do some fathers treat their sons in such an unloving way?
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My father was a very troubled, complex man. I was his first experiment in parenting.
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My first set of foster parents were like that. It took a long time to find my way back to God. I am sorry you went through this, too.
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My story is all too common and not nearly as bad as many. And yet it took me 20 years of counseling to work through it. Thanks for sharing.
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You are the one who must give yourself permission and approval from now on. But of course, you know that. This poem is so very powerful and it’s a gift as Barbara said to both your readers and to yourself! Bravo.
Jan
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How sweet, Jan! Thank you!
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