I want to dissolve myself
in the absolution of my father's faith.
back when he was still
my black superman.
My intellectual hercules.
My faith in him was/is
absolute.

And I grow. And he gets older
and weaker,
and frailer.
More prone to doubt and fear.
And my faith:
in diametric opposition to the normal way of things
solidifies.
Becomes stronger.

Because he is not my black superman,
still my intellectual Hercules,
still the man who tries everyday
to make the world a better place
to love where people spew hate.
to give where everyone takes.

I want to dissolve myself
in the absolution of my father's faith.
to become his black superman
and save him some day soon.
And be to my unborn children
A real hero.
Flawed.
Imperfect. 
Here.

'It's over,' she told me.
to my unexpected relief. 
'I'm moving in two days,' she added
To my disbelief.

'You don't say you love me
and you don't seem to care.
I know that I deserve better,
and this is the only thing that's fair.'

She left in a tearful embrace
that could not melt my sullen resolve.
She was right, this was better,
to have never bene involved.

We never truly spoke,
I fired both our loads in
stupid, manly silence.
stupid, repetitive silence.

And, as is my habit,
I took the blame
and she took our friends
and I sat in that house. Alone.

A year passed. I missed her.
I dated. They never worked out.
I mated. They never worked out.
I hated. I stopped working out.

And the last time we shared a bed
with pillows down the middle
to symbolise our final parting
and the committal of her heart to another.

Who isn't me. Doesn't  doubt.
Wears the right skin.
Has the right job.
Thinks the right way.

And little by little
year by year
my heart unlaces itself
from the very image of her. 

There is a tenderness
floating gentle
on the surface 
of the eye.

A warm darkness
that beckons
softly gathering
images in embrace.

uncovered to the air
it breathes, scabs
for the first time
in so many years.

A new-born
in agony, taking
those first steps
in a world seeming new.

Pain subsides
eventually, as time
dabs gently on this
brand new skin.

Stretching, moving,
struggling with
all that came before
to face all that may come after.

There is a gentleness
sobbing tender
just below the surface
of a heart.

Saltwater rolls down 
a bristled cheek.
It strips the skin
To shed years and layers.