Whispers from my Father

His figure is etched onto my retina, haunting my dreams as I close my eyes in the darkest corners with my fears he rests in peace the jailer to my demons, the warden of my mental prison the lighthouse that guides me to shore.   He whispers like sand devils to a lost desert wanderer a thousand words painting memories on canvas, tears falling down my cheeks as if to quench my thirst from the heat of this Hades I now reside. He has been gone so long I feel…

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