Questions I Have Answered Have Left Me With Questions

I hate coming home

After I left,

I figured out an idea of what home really is–

To whom my parents really are

To how I really feel.

When I step foot through the door

What will matter?

The fact that I can pet my cat again,

Or the realization that my father lived an incomplete life.

The troubles I’ve seen in myself, family, and friends

I’ve seen in my father–

The troubles he’ll never know of,

Has limited how much he understands himself

As I was on the phone with my father,

He explained my generations behavior as

disrespectful, and careless

Nevertheless, despite his descriptive passive aggressive criticism

he expressed

that I was the exception

I wonder what it would have been like if my fathers eyes

Were Veridian blue

Instead of a fall brown

And our cultural values

Absorbed the ideas behind a blue eye

And disregarded the abuse of the other

My father is kind of funny.

But his comment made me ask myself:

Am I the exception because he loves me?

Am I the exception because he does not know of the things I’ve done?

Am I the exception because that is his job?

What was my fathers job?

Because I don’t think he did it right.

But was it even his fault

Because he knows not of what he suffers from

Or where it comes from

He just knows it’s his brain

And he believes he has zero significance in this life

Because his brain has attacked his body

And has disintegrated any belief that his life

Will get any better.

I want to make my parents life better

I do not know how.

He refuses to know

Or understand

his suffering

He doesn't know what to do.

Will I know what to do?

I used to ask myself if I would cry at my fathers grave

I and I always thought

No

I would simply ponder and not feel any emotion

I hate coming home

Because as my father drove us home

As I looked into my fathers eyes

Tears rolled down mine

As I realized I will cry when he dies.

He has suffered enough

And I’ll feel pain over the uncertainty of the level

Of unfulfillment he felt.

I love my father.

He has an inhuman spirit

I seek to comprehend

But the brain of a man

I am moving to forgive

My father is just human.

He didn’t choose this.