Poetry for Papa, when a son misses his father...

 When a child misses his parents, he cries endlessly at night to wake them up...
When a daughter misses her mother, she looks at herself and sees the mother's features through her reflection...

But when a son misses his father, he tries to look for him from one city to another, and he seeks closure from those who potentially have the answers... But when a son is tired and helpless, he cries at night on Father's Day while reading the jottings he had tearfully written in anger, sadness, and love aloud, hoping that his father would come by his dreams again, even though just for a moment before the sun wakes him up because to hope for him to appear at the doorstep is perhaps just as good wishing upon the stars in the daylight.

Wherever you are, whoever you are... this is for you, Papa... Happy Father's Day...

- Your Son, Qadeem Shaher.



You've successfully failed me...

I wish to tell you how successful you are...
With only a short pronunciation of 'Hi', you had captured the want of me to know more about you.
You've successfully touched my heart within that short pause when your eyes looked into mine.
Above all of those, you have also successfully failed me miserably.

You made me yearn for your existence and scream in silence for your voice to be heard again.
You held my hope in your filthy hands, then crushed it in seconds.
You made me love you even more from afar, while my feelings, you ignored...
Then you ran away from me, as though I was a homeless man begging for pennies amongst the rats.

And now, the more I think of it, the more hatred gets filled in my heart, for there is too much pain caused throughout these years!
You made me love you in just one look at your eyes, then made me search for you like a hopeless little orphaned kitten, while the tears of my eyes dropped down like a sea with no shore.
You made me pray for you every day and night. You made me wait for you from winter to fall...
While you let me be alone, enduring all the pain and humiliation the world has to offer because you, too, are humiliated for having me.
You left me hanging on a thread that burns my neck, yet my heart is still too soft to let you go of my mind.

Oh, I wish I had the strength to shut that pretentious smile down the drain.
For right now, my heart still wants to be with you, while my mind is sick of thinking of you and all the struggles you let me go through alone.
I used to question, "How cruel could a man possibly be?!"... but now I guess it is obvious that a man can be very cruel when the heart is no longer alive!
I used to cry at night or whenever the rain came by, thinking of that if you knew how much this small empty heart still wanted you in it, maybe one day you'd come by at the doorstep to greet me with those sparkling tender eyes...
No doubt, I still do cry... every day, every second.

But now that I know that I was never a part of your proud, foolish portraits...
I cry even more and hate you even more, even when I don't wish to anymore!
I hope you realise how much pain and suffering you have caused in my life all these years.
And I hope I know how successful you are as a man, for no father that I know of has ever made his son hate him as much as you've made me hate you.



Don't crash a heart when it's already shattered...

How many sleepless nights must I drift through?
How many gallons of water must be flowing out of my eyes?
How many doubts must my eyes carry every time a topic comes up about you?
And how many guesses must I give myself?
When should the line be drawn, and will there be enough strength to pull it through, or will I just drag myself back to square one again?
Why keep an eye on the little leaf only to see it wither?

How doesn't it bother you to know that I am dying to get that long-awaited closure from you while you go around doing the things that you should be doing to me?
Am I already dead to you?
If that's so, why do you still keep an eye on this 'dead' person?

What is the joy of seeing me suffer while you're busy comforting others?
How can a heart be so dry, and how can a man be so heartless to his own blood?
It's not the money, nor the gold...
But it's the heart that's being questioned.

If the heart is not there, then don't showcase it as though it's there.
Because I hate being alone, enduring all the pain and suffering, while seeing a false hope that I expect to come true someday.
Only to know that it doesn't exist.

At least not for me...

Be cruel all you want, but just not to me... for I've been murdered enough throughout my short lifetime, a life that you made me have, yet again I have to go on without you.
You don't hit an innocent child with a stick, so don't crash a heart when it's already shattered...
Not when the child is yours.



And The Scenario Goes On...

And the scenario goes on in my mind where one day we would accidentally meet each other again, on a sunny yet windy day...
Where the trees will be dancing as the leaves wither down to the grounds next to our feet.
The scenario where my lashes meet the withering flowers that brush against my teary eyes as I see yours.

The time when my eyes would start to water from the feeling of this deep longing finally being filled with care for the first time in decades.
And that scenario where you'd greet me with a smile and a pair of sparkling eyes of gladness.
The scenario that the scenes from the dreams I get when asleep come true someday...

The made-up scenario of my dreams keeps on playing in my head, no matter how many times I get tired of daydreaming... my heart still hopes to see you again.



Walk away...

When you want to swim, but there's no pool, and the ocean is far too deep to risk diving alone...
Look for the river that will eventually meet you with the ocean gradually.
But if the river is filled with plastic, then just walk away... for it is obvious that the water doesn't want you to be in it.
Just walk away, walk away in the hot, burning sun...

Go on walking even if it burns your skin, for one day when the rain falls from the sky, you, too, will get a little hint of what it feels like to be with the water... and even if it's not much, just be grateful for every drop of rain that touches your skin.

When someone doesn't want you to be in their life, just walk away... walk away even if it pains your eyes from imagining what they would look like at that moment, even if it hurts your head from thinking about them, and even if it breaks your heart thinking of how heartless a person can be...
For one day, sooner or later, that feeling and the joy of love will find their way to you if it's meant to be for you... by hook or by crook.

The Pariah...

Que sera, sera, as they say...

Whatever will be, will be...

I'll walk away, may it be rainy or sunny, for I've been through it for years before.

If you wish to not want me anywhere near, then it shall be my pleasure to obey the wishes of my good man.

If being alone is what's fated in the books for me, then shall be it.

There's no need to run when the race has ended... I shall just rewind the tapes and look through the pictures whenever I have the urge to find some comfort when the world seems to be cruel.

Even if looking at them will only make me cry even more from thinking about my unfortunate little life.

As you wish, that's how I, too, should wish for...

For I've realised that I am nothing but a poor little pariah who has no right, nor hope to be a part of an aristocratic life...

Just spare me a piece of cotton cloth if you ever need someone to clean the porcelain vases of yours... and that if ever the thought of me crosses your mind.

But until then... I shall keep on looking at those frames of your imaginary portraits.

And now, with teardrops falling from my cheeks down to the floor...

Farewell, my dear King... may the Lord bless you all, beyond and forevermore.

Qadeem Shaher @ Qadeem Zieman

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