Wednesday, October 5, 2011


    (In memory of Scott Hanford, 1951-2006)
Imagination is small comfort when you keep passing by,
my dreams troubled by your puzzling appearances.
You can't answer the questions I never ask,
but we don't linger long enough each night
to get past the awkward reunions,
and face the hard conversation
I need to have with you.
I want to let go.
I need a good night's sleep,
the only thing I really want to know,
is could you be proud of me? I made mistakes
that nearly split the family into sharp distant shards,
but I think you would be glad I made the hard choice,
and you might be impressed how far we've come since then.
I miss you,
but I want a good night's sleep.
Can we talk? Can we really talk,
and will I listen if you don't agree?
See you tonight, let's skip the tearful reunion,
awkward trip to the grocery store, and all the small talk.
Let's get things done in the dreamscape,
So I can leave it behind,
and stop hearing your voice
around the corner, and your laugh
in the next aisle at the store.
Maybe I will be able to visit my other
"adopted" family without hearing you in their father's voice.

I love you, and I need to let you go.


  1. This is a powerful poem. It must be a difficult process to deal with this.

  2. Thanks for the comment. :)
    It has been quite the process, though it does get easier a little bit at a time. Writing always helps.

  3. He would be. He is. I am. Tremendously proud. Always. xoxo