The questions I should have asked my parents
The
questions I should have asked my parents
The
ones I will never ask, for they, the objects of the queries
Are
forever beyond reach. The unrequited uncertainties irk me,
In
the still, dark nights,” should have when there was time,”
Roll
like thunder in my mind.
Where
will I find them, keys to unasked questions,
Those
that come uninvited, like trying guests.
Knock
on the door, push a leg in the narrow opening.
They
want to be served. But I have nothing to feed them
I
have no answers to the questions I never asked.
In
desperation, I scrape old memories
I
search for the colors behind their gray veneer
Run
old scripts in my mind, raged at the crackling soundtracks.
Why
I did not ask, is the main quandary,
Why
they never told, will forever haunt me.
Like
slow drifting clouds, lost in the play-act of colors,
Indefinable
answers waver my sight. Then I grasp it,
With
an abrupt freeing of sight, I know,
These
questions I should have asked, are my arsenal of arrows,
My
lasting connection to the past.
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