poetry critical

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Losses and Losers

Toe curled, silently I stood as I heard her heavy words…
“My daddy”.
They say voice is the first thing you forget,
then facial features in your mind’s eye,
the sounds of the footsteps.
Tears fell like Niagara.
Couldn’t see you in hospice,
buckets of tears would pour from my lids, I didn’t want to upset you further
as if you didn’t know that this was twilight.
You never saw me be no coward.
50th wedding anniversary, ‘The event’ of the century, your century.
I wasn’t there, never showed,
drunk in my rented corner, wallowing in my loss; irony.
There will never be an apology; earth and wind you are now, swirling distantly.
You never got to see me sober.
I beg for signs that never come.
In those moments, its real and surreal, your really gone.
I talk to you and there is no reply.
Silence surrounds the echo of my questions.
You never got to see me making my dreams.
So few things I do know; aerospace engineer, colonel father, unknown real father,
you were successful, sophisticated, mean and kind, depending on the answerer.
I took it all for granted, and I walked past.
Pictures litter the walls you built, hollow, a moment locked in time.
Time will turn those moments into dust too, at some point, as the rest of us.
You will never be in any more of my pictures.
No memorial, funeral, ceremony.
A stranger spread you somewhere.
“The sun will raise tomorrow.” your mantra in distress.
I don’t know the day that became untrue for you.
You ceased cold and alone, blue toed.
We all turned out the lights, curled up warm that night.
Your light never turned back on.
You will never see myself potentiated.

6 Sep 14

(define the words in this poem)

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