Premise: A middle aged man struggling to find his true identity before its too late, reflects upon his childhood and the emotional abuse he suffered at the hands of his father who has recently passed away. There was no closure yet there is mutual love but it’s come at a high price.
My god what has he done
His impatience, anger and fear project upon his son
My god what has he done
Frustrated by his limitations
His upbringing surely imperfect, maybe hostile
Jewishness in the Bronx, the source of his abrasions?
An average earner suffers a wife
Proving her value with upper crust inclinations
The pressure devours his fragile parental soul
Nourishing his invisible demons
Four children he can't afford yet without could their lives shine
Three girls before the final experiment
Finally, a boy, he hopes will make them proud
What terror if he turns out too loud and better suited for different crowd?
Father is an ordinary man
Prone to shouting, disparaging, demeaning
Leaning back from the drivers seat, extending the back of a ring clad hand
Whacking the overly inquisitive son
Punishment for too many questions, disrupting his peace
Aaah, the joyous family dinners
Wait, there are rules, beware should you fail to heed
Punishment rains up the sinners
A fork squeals against a plate
Then a shrieking knife
This symphony of human silence forges our fate
The glug of water filling a glass drowns our thoughts
No speaking - dare you interrupt the evening news
You will be cast out, no one caring of your blues
Ideas shunned, voices silenced, personalities suffocated
What is love, who knows, just give it a shove
When he reaches his limits
A height not very high
A swift 'shush' and a finger pointing at your eye
Dead in my tracks, silenced, instantly mummified
Speak not or pay the price should you try
A young boy ignorant of the world
Knowing nothing of classical music, Judaica or how a filet of mignon differs from one of fish
He'll let me know swiftly, with a degrading tone
Finally his brilliance can be shown
As for me -- well, scared and alone
I search my world for a surrogate father
Camp counselor, teacher, yard worker, I'm not very selective
Surely there's someone to show me love, to be protective
What a coward - a little boy your tool to avoid feeling a fool
What a coward - how hard did you try or did you simply seek solace and cry
I never sought your advice
I never desired to follow your path
I never respected how you lived your life
You must have known, it must have caused you pain
I too am sorry father for I knew no other way
I won't let this happen to me or my progeny
I know you loved as best you could
There were good times and days in which I know you tried
Yet knowing this alleviates no pain, justifies no cowardice
I need to move on now
Although I'm not really sure how
I'll try to latch on to the happier moments
I'll try to push away your anger
How you deflected your inadequacies upon me
Much like your father likely imposed upon you
I have tried to break the cycle
I have no god but I pray for success
I too am a flawed father
Hoping my sons have no need to search for an identity
Father, rest in peace and know I have always loved you
Flawed father, searching son
