A Father’s Scars

By Sarvajeet Chandra

I scrubbed myself clean,

Of your dissapproval, doubting hands.

Your expectations, harsh demands,

Your stinging sarcasm, cold reprimands.

I cleansed my soul, in a valley of stars,

Far from the shadows, far from your scars.

I healed myself of your bitterness, 

Unsung songs, untold tales of distress.

Your haunting loneliness, disdain, 

Your broken heart, silent screams of pain. 

With threads of night, I wove my dreams, 

Stitched in secret, sewn in moonbeams.

I chose a life both small and still, 

No need for glory, no mountain to fill. 

I hibernated, while others chased the light, 

Content in shadows, far out of sight. 

And one fine day, through all those years, 

In the heart of darkness, I quelled my fears.

And then, when decades quietly passed,

Your memory was fading, slipping fast.

Your poems, your eyes bright and true,

Your stories returned, you came back too.

In the quiet, your love broke through,

And finally, Dad, I remembered you.

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