Daddy

Once you were a mountain
I could not move
yet had no desire to climb.
Now I know when love flows red
all volcanoes must crumble
in time.
The day the landslide parted, my heart quaked
and I reached out to stem your tide.
And all the bad blew past
in your wicked whispers,
an avalanche of dust
in black-and-broken blue.
Left behind?

A tiny heart in a turtle shell
with a brand on top.
The imprint of your hand.
Oh, my Daddy,
I’m still shell-shocked
locked in endless now with you.
Though your evil-eye,
no longer watches my each
and every “little-pet” move.
My woman’s heart is now bedrock,
made from your quicksand.

Cause, Daddy, see those sharp stones,
those pebbles on the shore?
I walk on them no more.
Your mark may embed my every step, it’s true.
But you’re just a fossil that mars my heel.
I can say, I don’t care if you never did,
And I know I forgive you.

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