Today you are celebrating another year and another Father day, I just wish to give tribute to the man that among many imparted so everlasting feeling to so many children that ashame to say it loud, but why they should go away with emotional murder? because they were "fathers"?
Please bear with.

The silence was my silence,
only broken now and then
by the loving sound of my father’s
approaching steps, even if he didn’t
pause to ruffle my hair
or to look my way.
He never raised his hand to strike
my face nor raised his voice in anger,
but he never broke our silence
in between either.
I supposed he had nothing to say
to me and I was afraid to switch
the light ON and let him see
what was hiding in my shadows,
provoking with it the front door
to slam one final time, leaving me alone,
as always, but this time forever.
When he passed away I wasn’t given
the chance to say goodbye
but got the cruelest words
“When the dog’s dead the rabies are gone”.
I only can remember of my father
one afternoon when he was back
from one of his travels,
I was trying desperately
to call his attention by pulling his sleeve,
say something to make him proud of me,
to look at me, so I blurted
“I cry no more when mother beat me up!”
To this day I don’t think he never heard me,
he just kept walking.
I have wondered in my adulthood
why the lights came up at all.
Someone told me once that holidays
was just that, days, agonizing long
without a taste of Christmas or New Year
Halloween or Thanksgiving,
just another day.
Like that moonless Fathers Day’s
evening near the front like
with merry snipers on both sides,
when a wounded soldier down
in no man’s land I thought was calling
help for my mother.
Was he kidding?
Was he really expecting she to come?
Keep the shadows,
without belonging somewhere
or to somebody,
until the catharsis overwhelms
the soul and one wish
to close the eyes and disappear.

I said, “Happy Fathers’ Day, Dad…”

He replied, “Happy what?...eeeh?...who?”