Body Language

Body Language

I can remember

All the times

My mother

Watched me

Silently,

Listening,

Her feet

Pointed

Towards me

And all

The times

My father

Impatiently

Shifted

Them

Away from

My sight.

How She

Posed

Her Neck

To My

Full sight

A pose

Of love

Visible

Only

To Her

Lonely,

Hurting

Little boy;

While

My father

Kept

His invisible

Under

Sixty years

Of collars.

How she

Greeted me

Always with

Palms up

Entreating touch

And an offering

Of a

Whispered idea

Of my

Better self;

While my father

Was a

Palms down

Authoritative,

Blindly confident

Man

Who kept

Every secret,

Every lie,

Every praise

Away.

Curiously neither

Picked

Their fingers

Or twiddled

Their thumbs,

Nor gave me

A thumbs up,

A thumbs down.

Just gazed me

With a fixed

Steady stare

That said

All her love

Every day

She was alive

And his

Seventy years yon.