Frank Charles Schwakhofer in his 30’s

From my father came
the pain and the shame and the rage.

The fury.

The huge silhouette,
hulking over, scary.

A shadow of a doubt .  .  .  .
Was he ever there at all?

Beyond the shadow
the brokenness, the not belonging.
The longing to fit in,

the never quite fitting in.

The silence.

The deep toll of grief,
the awful aching emptiness,
the pushing away, the going away,
the never having been there.

Boxing with his shadows,
he never saw us;
but the blows still landed,
struck in blindness
they always found their mark.

-Melinda Schwakhofer, 2013


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