I find it strange that some men decide to get married and have kids without actually wanting to be husbands and fathers. It is astounding how often people ask me, โWhere is your daughter?โ when I am at the gym or out alone, as if the other parent does not exist. How sad.
I am the orphan
Who wrote a story
That was buried
Among many
Adopted by my own will to hold on
To a life I knew would be
Of my own making
Teaching myself
what I had wished to be taught
I sing to my own shadows
As I swing in between what's there
And what I long for
Visiting Lebanon after having a baby = Day drinking at home and inviting people over because my daughter has a tantrum every time I go out. Also, anxiously monitoring the news.
I sit under the tree
Waiting for the feeling to pass
The lights around it
Look better from afar,
I think
I brush away the guilt I feel
But it grows
And every present I open
Is a memory
I wish to bury.