My Father

I miss him,
my father,
like no other
in the world.
I want to kiss him,
my father,
like any other
boy or girl.
I want to hold him,
my father,
to be kept safe
from this turmoil.
I want him,
my father,
to come back
into this world.

Although he is no longer here
I can still hear him in my times of need
speaking from within me, looking back through
the mirror that shows both his reflection and mine
as I gaze into my past to find the man that bore me
and raised me as a child to know what was right from
what was wrong in this world that he left me all alone in
without the influence of a man to shape my mind and body
into something more than this poor excuse for a man that I am.

Although he is no longer here
I can still remember his voice because it is mine
and the words that escape my lips are borne of what
he taught me to believe in even before I knew I could believe
in anything or nothing at all, because he is the one who instilled in me
the principals of life that I am still living by to this day and to every day henceforth.

Although he is no longer here
I remember him fondly from days gone by
when he took me to the lake and made me fly
on the wings of a speeding boat that sliced through
the waves and stood afloat above the expanse of blue above
and blue below and blue in my eyes that stared into his as I weeped
the tears of joy that pour from my face now that he is with me forever
in my heart and in my mind and in my body and in my whole being because
My father is, no matter what, always going to be a part of me.

What would he say if here were here?
My father, my father, who I hold dear?
What would he say if I were queer?
My father, my father, still love me dear?

I miss him,
my father,
but we'll meet again.
I love him,
my father,
my dearest friend.