MY FATHER’S CLOTHES
Sometimes I feel like
I am wearing my
father’s clothes
They are uncomfortable
and too big for me
The sleeves grab at my hands
encasing them in wool
or gabardine
They make me sad
as though he is living
his life through me
though he passed oh so many
years ago
I feel like he never
passed the mantle
of his love on to me
And I must wear his shroud
like some ancient Egyptian cloak
suffocating my life
through his life
As his life continuum continues
beneath my consciousness
willing me away from my own destiny
It makes me sad that he could
not just walk that solitary path
without taking me with him.
