sirenpaper | father’s touch | a poem unframed

I have my father’s hand

but it’s a woman’s hand

it’s my hand

I asked him to use his hands

to draw me an image

to go back to something he abandoned

to use his hands, his mind, for something good

to let his anger and bitterness transform paper and pencil

to leave me wholesome

and sometimes moments came into existence

I asked my father to draw me a siren

he painted three engulfed in waves that resembled them

I didn’t like his point of view, his abstraction, that I couldn’t see their faces

but I’ve kept these rare drawings for years

the moments when my father and I were at peace

in a form of art

finding one another

and the movement of a pen on paper suggested peacefulness

when our mouths were silent

and I watched him use his hands for good

never would I see him as tranquil and steady

my father’s sirens, a daughter’s calling,

what frame could ever hold them?

My own drawing © Laura Gentile 2021 | Instagram: @melpomenepaintings

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