Love for my father

(A Thousand Splendid Suns)

The perspective of Zalmai- a father’s son

They told me Baba was strong and right,
A storm in boots, a voice like night.
He held my hand with iron pride,
And I believed- because they lied.

My mother smiled when he was near,
But not the smile she wore with cheer.
It sat like glass behind her eyes,
And cracked whenever he’d arise.

Mariam would pat me and hum so low
As if she knew what I’d not know.

But then one day, he left the frame,
And silence never spoke his name.
They said he was, they said he meant,
But no one told me where he went.

Now I grow tall, and start to see
The shadows in my memory.
I know the anger that I wore
Belonged to someone else before.

My father. Was he proud or cruel?
Was I his son, or just a tool?
Was love the shout, the hand, the rule?
Or the toys he brought, new clothes of wool?

Now my mother laughs in gentler ways.
The sky has light.
We count the days.
But in my dreams, I sometimes see
A shadow turning back to me-
And wonder still- a small thought Was that the man I shouldn’t have forgot?