And then hold back
hoping
For support
against the void —
My father's crime
has become mine,
Not yet healed, been
seen
Why tell the truth as needed
only to pull away in pain?
Pulling theirs in, the pauses,
the gestures,
the scattered signs
Displeasure permeates
my mind,
makes it want to
apologize
For what? For being?
For cowardice
or bravery?
The words do what they will
still we shiver in the water
of our cells
