To My Son

Photo by Lina Trochez on Unsplash

I’m sorry if it seems that my face
is made of ice so dry, and so cold,
that it cuts you when you touch it.

I’m sorry if my deep, booming voice
shakes the room… even if I’m not
really there.

As I kneel down to pray,
I hope that God will forgive me
For all the times I never hugged you
For all the times I never told you that I loved you
For all the beautiful memories that
I never gave you.

And if it ever so happens
that you will write these
exact same words
to your son,

Then I have no right to ask for your forgiveness

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