Paternal Legacy

[clarity]

You could silence me
with a look, or with
the lack of one.

Either way
I did not exist;
seen through as if
a ghost.

It hurts to become
a solid thing in
this world.

To birth yourself
and know the pains
of such strange labour.

To appear slowly to
yourself, emerging
from the mists of
wintered past.

I bump into myself
each day, and apologise
until I remember-this is me.

This stranger I must
welcome in, and offer
some refreshment.

And listen to politely,
and hope one day
to love.