Teacher. Guardian. Friend.

Two black-beaten eyes were unfit for your Dirty Butter skin.

With you, I match. With you, I make good sense…

And resonate against the backdrop of reality

With a sound that is harmonious with, and lasting in

Nature’s Opera.

You did magic in me.

And you don’t even remember the one sacrifice that meant the most.

You don’t remember taking an ass-whipping for me.

I understand why you had to block out the trouble of those days.

And the child in me does resent the fact that I must remember the most difficult time

Of my life, alone.

The part that made me a man. The part you were there for.

The part of our shared history… this man you made, can never thank you enough for.

Block it out. You have done enough. You have done magic. I’m more than happy to remember this. All on my own.

I will keep putting these pinecones in your hands, and on your lap, and in your closet, and under your bed, and I will tell everybody all about you and about the reason

I’m okay, even if I don’t act thankful. Even if I still let the past touch me.

It touches me.

But it never holds me. Not down. And not up.

That was you.