I smell his impulse
from a half day away.
The hint of a riddle
in the half light of pain.
The soft siren song
that tempts me with silence.
The voice of the child
bereft of my guidance.
I see what is hidden
as I feel what he fears.
We share the forbidden
truth shed in our tears.
We are each other
in flesh father carved.
This child is me
and I won’t let him starve.
Written by Jason Wright
July 29, 2018