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(Young Jack's Lament)
Young Jack felt the loss
The sense of despair and desolation
At this time of the year
Each year on Father’s Day
As if the sky had caved in
Every June on the third Sunday.
He dreaded going to school
The following day, unable to share
Or take part in the communal experience
Being excused the ordeal
Of standing up in class
To describe the card he never gave,
The present he never bought,
Or the lasting moments of intimacy
That he never enjoyed
Nor the sense of belonging
Or being the heir-apparent
To a paternal figure, perennially missing.
The sense of betrayal;
At night he would mourn
The absence of walks by the sea,
The lack of bicycle trips
The ride on a playground swing,
Soaring high in the sky
Till he almost touched the clouds;
Sitting by the fireside playing chess
Or solving never-ending puzzles
With crucial pieces missing,
Like the void in his burgeoning life.
Young Jack blamed Circe,
She of the beguiling voice,
The magical potions
Her cup of bewitching sorcery. |
