the boys in the temple today
spoke down to me, questioned
again, about your father
eyes, pure white, open and embracing
circles of brown round black, still believing these are
more beautiful than any anyone has seen
I regret what I told them
you will have children. never leave your sons, I say
please do not do what some of your real fathers did, I think
I turned my back and walked away from
my choices, the surprise and hypocrisy and beliefs
your parents, my parents, just products of lifetimes
I hope the questions stop
It’s not the Indian way, they say
abortions, preferred. you think, they think, silent
your father, being human being, a man
tender boy made in mountains, naive, frightened
existence we created, they created, were created, are created
truth, still a mystery to me
father will love him, he is his son, they say
it’s too dangerous to try, you say, they stay silent
nearly two years have passed. I am not the same
surely neither are you alone, in the secret of fatherhood
missing, or dead. to us you seem the same
I hope the questions stop