Turned around, fleeing,
I run from conflict
instead of facing it—
a coward’s path
born from a father’s shadow,
steeped in generational abuse.
A cycle vicious
as a violent thunderstorm,
striking bolts from the heavens
in divine judgment,
scorching my soul
as if branded like cattle.
A coat of arms
twisted and contorted,
misrepresenting values
held in the present,
yet fully defined
in a past no longer recognizable
to the progeny
who is tired of running
from Daddy’s failings.

No, it is time
to alter course,
to charge headlong
into the unknown abyss
where a different fear
lies in wait—
the dread of becoming
a carbon copy of his failings,
their venom lurking
like a stalking predator,
starving and salivating
at the thought
of a fresh meal
of unsuspecting me,
tripping into the pit,
unprepared to face demons
and rewrite history,
to forge a new heritage
unblemished by cowardice,
to rebuild a coat
that accurately depicts
who I have become
while freed from the bane
of paternity’s weaknesses,
that led to his son’s pain.

I stand up,
pushing back against the dark,
my light radiant
like the summer sun at noon,
casting glare
over the shadows,
causing them to flee
in a terror once my own,
no longer to darken
the soul of a good man
seeing beauty
in all things—
a revelation
that I too can shine
if given time
to heal from past wounds,
whose blood-streaked tears,
now scabbed over
and healed,
leave only a faint scar
of what was,
a reminder to live
in the present
and build anew
the love lost
between father and son.