Péchés De Mon Père
There is a phrase that I come across, every once in a while....
"sins of my father."
I sometimes wonder, is that why I am like this?
Am I paying penance for the sins of my father?
Lord knows that he paved his road with his sins,
and I saw them nearly every damn day of my life,
until his life ended.
And even after that, I still remembered them.
My life isn’t everything that other folks have…
if there is a way to make whatever I try to do,
however the day could go, but doesn’t,
then I end the day when I lay my head to my pillow,
wondering why it went that way,
rather than how it seems it would for others.
Sins of my father?
Who the hell knows?
I never will know,
but it is something to wonder about.
My dear sainted aunt used to tell me
that there was no way that anything
I ever thought of or wanted or planned –
no way in hell
that it would go that way,
that it would work out nice.
Just no damn way.
I used to think she was crazy,
but she was right.
And Lord, I wish she wasn’t.
over so much time,
not to expect what I’d like to expect —
it just aint’ gonna happen that way.
That kind of life was never meant for me.
Hurts like hell,
and I wish I could just get used to that….
could learn to accept it that way.
But it just freakin’ hurts…
Too damn much.
From when I can remember back to
until now, or until whenever…
it has never been any different.
I don’t know why I keep wanting it to be.
Comments on this poem/writing:
Click here to read other Poems by Shiloh
Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack
COPYRIGHT NOTICE: All Rights Reserved. No part of this website, including all pictures and written words, may be reproduced or copied in any manner from this website without permission of the original author of the work. All poetry and pictures herein remain the sole property of the original author and/or copyright owner. All poetry on this website has been submitted by the original author of the work. To contact any author of the work please e-mail: email@example.com so the proper person may be notified.