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12-24-2015, 09:44 PM
Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
I think I used to be ashamed of my father. It's true. I think once I looked at him and I thought him pitiful, I think I hated him once, even. I hated his neglect, I hated his recklessness. But when that dog died, I could just never see him like that again.
You see there was, still is, something about the way he hurts. I see it now and I know it's a pain that won't leave him. For once, he's letting himself feel. I haven't known him long but I know this is a struggle, for him. I know it's a part of letting go.
I feel, I think, that it was her dying wish.
But that's not something I can never know. I loved her, but she was never mine. She never will be. She'll never be anyone's again; she's just gone.
Father tells me as he walks that he chooses this form for my sake, but I know that's a lie he tells himself. He chooses it because it is manifests the pain he feels inside, because every step sends a jolt of hurt and so he cannot forget that it lives in his heart, too. Zsoka's pain is similar to mine in that it never leaves us. Knox finds this simple, finds in it a reflection of how he feels and how he is scared to admit his world is now defined by.
And he is unassuming, too. He is unrecognizable. Only mother and I have seen this form, only Archibald is another that might expect to find him looking different. I stay by my father's side to comfort him, I let my gold eyes wander over the dreary day, and with him I wait when our walk finds its end.
We stand together for suffering, for a connection that we still struggle to find. He's given up talking, but I'm always listening. I'll never stop listening.
When he starts to cry, when his chest starts to struggle, I do nothing to show that I've heard.
""
Can the child within my heart rise above?
@Archibald
