The child looks on into the darkness
I see him always from behind
Dark hair
Short....trimmed
Black t-shirt
Black shorts
Black socks and shoes.

Always quiet
Always staring
Always alone

Looking

At what, I wonder
What was there?
For something was
Something has just left
A man I think
A man he loves
Or needs
Or both

And somehow he knows
As only children do
This man's heart
That he will not be loved
No matter what he does
No feeling there
No love
Just nothing

He understands
He really does
As children do
Not knowing that they do
There is an emptiness that grows inside
For hope is gone
At last, is gone
For he had dared to hope for love
A father's love

How long will you stand there, little boy
How long look out at empty space
Hoping he'll come back for you
Hoping to be loved
Hoping to find meaning in a father's arms

A hundred years, if need be

I know
I know those years
I know that door
I know the man
I also wait

But he's not coming back, you know
His love will not be coming forth
He's closed it up where we're concerned
I'd tell you not to wait
But how can I?

If only you could turn away
And look for love another place
But it's his love you needed

Need

What was it, little boy
What was it in us that he thought he couldn't love

Bobby,

From speaking to survivors who were abused by their fathers I have come to understand, at least a bit, the special pain of this form of abuse. Your line here catches the feeling so poignantly.

But make sure Little Bobby knows that there was no fault in himself. He deserved to be gathered up and hugged and cherished just like any other boy.

Much love,
Larry

Bobby,

Your poem yanks at my heart strings. I suppose because I longed for more than I got from my dad. He did the basics. Provided. once in a while he'd take us kids for a hike or a trip to the beach. I don't ever recall any real one on one relationship stuff with him. I was afraid of him. I longed for something that I would never get. Perhaps If he and I could start today there might be a chance, but there is so much distance between us in more than one sense. I know he loves me and He knows I love him, but there is so much more to a relationship than knowledge, and I don't think he knows how to go there.

Thanks for your poem, Bobby. I'm sorry for the little boy in you that was so devastated by his father. You have my love and compassion.

John

Bobby,

I want to take that boy in my arms and hug him close and lead him by the hand to a better place, where the sun shines warm and kites sail in a blue sky. I would lead him to a place where he won't have to look for love because he has found it.

Love ya

derdle

this poem is hard on the heart.
the little boy, looking through the window, waiting.
makes me cry.

You strike a chord in me, Bobby.

A sad, familiar tone.