FATHER, oh father where were you
my crib is destroyed by time
and clothing many sizes bigger
and scars upon my heart and soul
that list many write of loss
too lengthy for me to scribe
some memory still exists —
imagery through thick glass
once I believed I be born
but now reside in resolve —
you were never birthed nor lived
and me by mother —
immaculate
conception
:: 03-14-2014 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 