He was my father… though in name only
I knew him as the one who with my mother bore me.
That’s all he ever was to me.
I am the son of a man who drank and slept out 
ever since I could remember.
My mother’s  pain is  forever etched in  my heart
Now he lays in a hospital bed
A skinny ,withered frame, cirrhosis of the liver the doctor’s say
No chance of survival, he can go any day.
I don’t know why I visit…I  feel no love for him.
I think only of my mother now many years gone
And wonder why this wicked man’s life goes on
Why does he linger here, why can’t he just disappear.
I can’t even touch his hand laying fragile on the sheet
Twitching and drumming an erratic beat.
He cannot even look at me…maybe he’s ashamed
So he should be…does he even know my name
I come every day to sit beside his bed
Not a word is said.. not a look is shared
Even as a tear dropped from his eyes..I felt nothing
but hate as I looked upon his haggard face.
The evening of the sixth day…I sat at his side
and drew my chair closer to his bed
I looked at him so frail and weak
And took his hand in mine.
He glanced at me sheepishly
And quickly looked away again
I kissed his cheek, I don’t know why
But a strange feeling filled my heart
I forgive you dad, I do love you, I said
Go now in Peace.
Where those words came from
I don’t even know, but as he closed his eyes one last time
I stood up, extended my arms to Heaven
And was enveloped in a dazzling radiance
Forgive…..Forgive… rang in my ears
And  as my spirit soared  my soul was reborn.