This poem is presented in its rough draft form for the PAD 2023 challenge and will be revised.
“Awashed in the Past”
The cascade of history
bruises my eardrums
fills my lungs
constricts my heart
until I have to give in to the drenching
rush of what might have been
Snippets of the past create a roar
against the stones of time
I catch a few drops
traveling back
into the stream of memories
that pelt my skin
sharp, then dissipating on my sense
of who I should have been
I hear milestones of my past
Shotgun blast
Broken drywall
Drunken speech
Dead dial tone
But my heart drops me into a moment of possibilities
I am your son
sitting at your feet
football in my hands
Waiting to hear “I love you”
in the spiral of a pass
I catch on the run
in the backyard
I see your hands raised
the air filled with “Touchdownnnnn!”
A wave crashes into my chest
bringing me back to now
my hands empty
wondering what it sounds like
to have your father’s voice
cheer for you in real life
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