oil on canvas (48×72)
by Jill Joy
oil on canvas (48×72)
by Jill Joy
he slipped away
into that non-judgemental night
he slipped away again
I was not called to his bedside
there was no face-to-face
just “make me a list”
of the pimping
the using to procure women
the manhandling of his grand daughter
this was not a nice man
yet he shmoosed his way around
into My Child’s Heart
I looked for his praise
his true nature
came to Me after The Death of My Brother
The Only Son
when the gleam of avarice
came to my father
as he realized he inherited
all My Brother’s property
property which had once belonged
to My Mother’s parents
I felt helpless
before my father died
I feel helpless now
except that I can write
I can write out my father’s life
and I can
write out my father’s death
he was one of those children
of the rich and famous
who was a sociopath
he thrived on the sympathy he got
when he told any and everyone
both his children
were mentally ill
I thought my parents loved Me
maybe my mother did
but my father did not
he said “I love you”
at long distances
I will not sink into a depression
over my father
who was not worth
anyone sinking into anything
he was a user, an abuser
a shirker
a jerk
his faults were glossed over, protected by his family
he had a hobby of hunting
smooth round rocks
on the shores of Nova Scotia
he didn’t want me walking along the beach
with him
my father was a sperm donor
at the side of a rock pool
at the base of a waterfall
that insemination was Me
Joanna Hyde
February 15th 2012 The Hawk