history repeats itself, way down into the future

five days, Dad 

was in hospital 

I didn’t know

you never called 

too caring by far you 

and I too alike too not 

I wonder when he goes

how long will I keep you close?

that final link of knowing 

I’ll be the last one standing 

what we think we become

I

I struggle bombarded

with polarized hate divisive 

with minute pickings

at threads not frayed

leading to gullies dark

where I cannot follow 

it’s a fine line between 

caring and perpetuating 

II

in the other space 

I retreat at entreaties nastily 

jabbing, “Why do you…”

and ever wonder why “Because

I am not you” is never a retort 

sufficient in the war

of butter on bread before jam

and is it jam or jelly anyway?

III

my dark is deep 

I was born with it

like a shroud it warms 

cold bones and sinew

in the deep recesses 

sheltering from the sun  

that singes, a sun cocooning

a web too tightly shatters 

and the light gets in anyway 

THE LIGHT GETS IN I choose 

to let it, to pry that door open