This man <br />who is not <br /> <br />my father <br /> <br />is <br /> <br />my <br />father. <br /> <br />The other’s laugh: <br /> <br />“It’s not your turn but <br />he calls only for you! ” <br /> <br />And so I go <br />& clean him up <br /> <br />his skeleton thin body <br />splashed with urine & sh**. <br /> <br />I laugh & joke <br />with him. <br /> <br />He chuckles <br />as I tell him: <br /> <br />“Michael...you used to be <br />so full of crap <br />but sh**...now you’re not! ” <br /> <br />Lucky <br />our Irish sense of humour <br /> <br />extends this far <br /> <br />say anything with love and <br />it becomes so. <br /> <br />It is a tired old joke <br />but like a child he <br /> <br />pounces on its nuances <br />relishing each pause and stupid syllable! <br /> <br />I bathe <br />him <br /> <br />this man <br />who is not my father <br /> <br />gently as if he were <br /> <br />my child. <br /> <br />I sing <br />to him <br />all the old songs <br /> <br />I learned <br />at my father’s hands <br /> <br />as he bathed me. <br /> <br />“...why does my poor heart keep following you...” <br /> <br />We sing together <br />softly as I bathe him <br /> <br />dress him <br />anew <br /> <br />in the memory <br />of my father. <br /> <br />This man <br />who is not <br /> <br />my father <br /> <br />becomes <br />my father <br /> <br />as my hands learn <br />to care for him. <br /> <br />I settle <br />a pillow <br /> <br />behind <br />his head <br /> <br />wipe sweat <br />from his forehead <br /> <br />stroke <br />his hair <br /> <br />until his sleep <br />is full <br /> <br />of dreams <br /> <br />...dreams. <br /> <br />*******<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-man-who-is-not-my-father-is-my-father/
