With publication of this poem in my blog I free myself of all anger concerning my father, Eino.
I am awash in peace and forgiveness after having reeled him in to this space, where, over the past six days, I've taken a hard, honest (and, surprising to me: loving) look at him. Now I'm releasing him.
Truly, this is the first Father's Day that I recall feeling untangled. Thank you for sharing it with me, friends.
Finland won't claim your bones
when your last mocking whimper
flutters Her tongue.
America, where your parents sailed to bear you,
which you criss-crossed on trains and railed against
has soil in Her belly to digest your shell.
Thus eternity will absorb you, my father,
and your children may test peaceful waters
without endless ripples from your
Heathen of my heart, maybe you loved me
when my letters came, when I sent books
to open up your boozy cage -
when I traveled to see you one last time.
Evenings now hang your face in the dark -
your watered red eyes, your monster walk -
and shaking hands reach through the night
to violate me again.
Ransom me and let the memory
be planted with your other horrors;
omit my name from your final plea,
your first prayer.
(copyright 1986: MLydiaM)