Further Father.

A distant memory.
A faint remembrance.
An abstraction.
Some hazy recall.
Hey, no recall at all.
Just a stranger.
Who left behind a son many years ago.
Some father.
Who is further from his heart.

Further from the truth.
A truth that haunts.
A truth that is too true.
He had searched for his face,
In the passage of time.
In the march of seasons.
Curiousity had goaded and plodded him along,
Just to know this person.
His own father.
Not that he cared.
And when they met,
There was uncomfortable silence.

Two strange men,
With nothing to say to each other,
After so many years apart.
Just a simple hello,
Is all that they could muster to mutter.
The man was his father.
But further from his son.
After so many years.
A stranger to his own face…

© 2012 Ayoub Mzee


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