How would it feel, for daddy's arms, to not be distant, to be here with me, in this moment, to stroke my arms, to encapsulate his hand, in mines, to state his presence, affirm his love, for me, us, in spite of his abuse, of our mother’s gardens, her presence, her flaws, weaved through, mine. how would it feel, to not live, in fear, of days past, of his voice, resounding through, the walls, fear of presence, from his roaring footsteps, stomping on the floors, fear of being afraid, his shadow, where nothing, is there.
