Signs of the Father


My Father used to say, peace be with you…

But it never was.

Holding a stark bare cross above the bedroom door…

I had been taught ‘this is love.’

Father would shake my hand until life caught hold

Eventually, in obsession, he became less bold.

My Father had sent me to deviant schools.

I had been taught of prejudice, good books, how to look for fools.

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