A Man Sits Under the Tree

My father's paranoid personality has made it impossible for us to reach out to him, and in turn for him to even try to reach out to us, his family. I know how hard he must have been struggling, but looking at his stoic and pervadingly aggressive and defensive personage belies whatever pain he is hiding from us.
A man sits under the tree
Staring into infinity,
Watching his dreams passing by
Like puffy clouds across the sky.

A man sits under the tree
And he spoke of his life story,
But no one cared to listen
Soon, his words were all forgotten.

A man sits under the tree
He felt desperate and lonely,
For he never shared his heart;
So from us he has stayed apart.

A man sits under the tree
He never knows what he should be,
Sitting there for all his life
Having fought none of his own strife.

A man sits under the tree
I feel him living inside me,
My one and only father
My own flesh. My blood. A stranger.

   By Felicity Maris Modesto
Published: 3/12/2009
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