the unchosen one
on the school playing field
your insides are paralysed
fountain of giving dried up
the welcoming smile
the outstretched arms and the hug
when you were hovering
uncertainly, on the edge,
deserving nothing at all
Papa comes in my summer dream.
He is wearing the jacket I remember so well. The colour, the smell, the texture.
I am the little girl again.
He picks me up, seats me on his lap, strokes my hair. I rub my cheek against the woollen fabric of the tan jacket.
And he tells me what remorse he has. For injustices done, for love unexpressed, for the cruellest of possible abandonments.
“I was suffering too much, too much. The fog of depression was enfolding me ever more stiflingly. There was no other way out.”
I sit and wait in wonder. I cherish this dreaming moment.
“But you – you go forth and be blessed, my beautiful daughter. And live your life victoriously.”