My father came to me in the form of A.S.
12:59 am
The time is unimportant, but somehow I don’t think you’ll believe me
Dead for more than 10 years and I’m still trying to find my father
This time he was
Feeding my advice back to me, how did he manage to sound paternal over keys and screens and now my screams?
I am crying
Wishing I could see my father’s face in my father’s face
Hear my father’s voice in my father’s voice
But I can only see pieces of memories of what I imagine he’d be
I imagine him in dark faces, broad shoulders, weary eyes and wearier hands
But never wearier than
The women he left behind
I asked the preacher where my father would be until the rapture and his answer was suspended in time
I don’t have daddy issues
I have daughter issues
Trying to become some father’s daughter
The female version of Jesus
Am I just sacrilegious?
Scratching at parables of my talents, searching for divinity
I used to fall asleep on the pews my father built before he vanished in the circle of life
Hoping I’d catch a whim of his overused cologne in the varnish
I know that my father is no one but Daniel
I wish he were here to slay all of my Goliaths
But I just wield this stone between my lips into a sword
Stretch my intentions like they have infinite elasticity
No one said it would come with the ease of paths taken
So I try harder
And travel farther
To become my father’s daughter
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