Poetry Friday

My Father...

is the leader,
the boss, the chief.
The silver back of the apes.

My father is the storm
the boom, the crash
the one that makes us scream. My father-

the doctor who
gives you the shot
but not the lolipop,
if you don't cry.

My father is the clouds
that darkens the day.
My father is
the hail that breaks
the window glass.

My father, the book
that can't be read.
The melody in
your head.
The picture without
the color.
The Artic missing
the ice.

Because of him
I'm always looking down,
keeping quiet and listening for orders.
Because of him I know the meaning of fear.

Because of him
I know how to catch
a ball, fix a bike, change
the car's oil.
Because of him,
I hug him at night
and don't let go.

                -Paola C. Rivera