If there were time left to us
I would rip the stitches free that cleaved my lips tight shut.
For whilst you still walked this good earth
fear stole the voice from the questions that rose unbidden
and I smiled, or cried, and wondered. In silence.
Now, I hold your thoughts on pages –
thoughts hidden in a briefcase
for more than half my life.
I touch the places where you once were,
skin to paper to skin, separated by life – and death.
I imagine you frowning as you wrote
at a rickety table in a steamed up coffee shop
on a gloomy December day
like this one.
Would you have answered my questions?
Would I have asked them anyway?
Honestly?
Do you know?
——–
This week were are asked to write a poetic apostrophe – something I had never heard about until now. Do you know? Whether you do or not, please do join us at dVerse, read and join in if you feel inclined!
Freya Writes... 
Nice line: “fear stole the voice from the questions that rose unbidden”
Thank you
I can feel the separation … all those questions you never asked…
I do remember you losing your father… but I do not know if it’s him you adress this to.
Thank you, Björn. Goodness, I’m impressed you remember that I lost my father. Yes, it is him I am speaking to. We recently found some old diaries that he dedicated to me and my sister, so the questions are fresh – again! He remains literary inspiration – I think thst would have pleased him.
I love this, Freya. I read your comment response to Björn, and so I know we both have this in common: deep inquiry about our fathers’ lives. Mine is still living, yet he never seems to slow down enough to get to that level where questions can flow and answers can illuminate. That would be a treasure to spend some quality time with him, but if not, I would absolutely cherish his diaries if he had them. I hope you can commune with him in some way. Thank you for participating in the prompt.
Hi there. Thank you for reading, and for commenting. I can also understand the difficulty of connecting with a parent whilst they are still alive. Whilst my father wasn’t at top speed all the time, we didn’t connect meaningfully – he wasn’t a constant presence in my life, sadly. It is what it is – you have to make the best of it. Thank you again.
I just responded but not sure it went through. I’m having great difficulty with that on many of the poets’ posts. I just wanted to say that I loved your own answer to the prompt and hope you find answers and can commune with your father in some way. What a treasure to have his diaries! I would love and cherish any writings of my own father.
Hi again. The commenting difficulty – maybe it’s because you’ve not commented before? I know that I had to approve both your comments, so they did get through, just not publicly.
His diaries have been interesting, have answered some questions, and I never expected to have them. It is still a surprise!