I like to thank my fellow poets
for presenting me with this plaque.
I’m glad to know that I’m not alone
with this pain that only daughters know.
The pain of having a father
that never loved you, nor
cared to ever acknowledge your
existence.
He didn’t die in an accident,
he didn’t have an excuse,
and didn’t bother to invent one.
He screwed my mom, then me.
Not literally, that was his only gift.
I’m sorry for those daughters
that have those fathers.
But he robbed me of those moments.
I never had a father/daughter dance.
Nobody was there to keep me safe.
I never got to hear his voice comfort me.
He was never there to put me on his shoulders.
Nobody was there to scare my boyfriends.
My best friend walked me down the aisle.
He doesn’t know he has a grandchild.
Where is he?
What does he do?
Why couldn’t he love me?
When did he lose his soul?
Who was he before his heart died?
I ask these questions and wonder
what kind of pain was he in
that made him abandon his
daughter.
A daughter that accepted her pain
and gave birth to a daughter
of her own.
There’s only one difference.
My daughter will grow
up having a father.
