skin-walker

Dear God

I am haunted by my dead father.
It seems he has stolen the shell of another,
a skin-walker;
who is my father.
The other seems to know this.
It seems he and my father are one.

Those cold snake eyes.
That malicious crooked grin.
The utter contempt.
The impression of absolute dominance;
or else !

Dear God

Please help and protect me.
I want to cringe and hide.
I feel stifled and ineffectual.
I know it is him.

I want to kill him;
my father, not the other.
My father is dead;
yet I want to kill him..

I believe I must kill him
for what he has done;
and what he may do
in the skin of this other.

A skin-walker;
who is my dead father.

He who stole my soul;
raped my mind and heart;
tortured my body,
with indifference and impunity.

My dead father
walks in the skin of the other;
who appears to know this
and seems not to care.

He is my father.
My father is him.
They are one

Only three of us know this.
Who is there to believe me ?
Who is there to care ?

Dear God, only you.

to my father who is dead

to my father
who is dead
though i see you almost every day
you are dead
i know you are dead
but you live
how can you have been born again in the shell of another?
it's as if you have stolen his skin
this i believe of you
i understand you now
i believe that you and he have conspired to accomodate each other
i have no doubt
you speak and act through him
he speaks and acts for you
what a perfect partnership
spawned in hell

Calm seas

The seas are still and calm
these lazy summer days.
Scattered battered logs
rest at ease along the beach.
But the stormy season looms;
and soon these mighty timbers,
like so many match-sticks,
will re-arrange themselves.
Until one day the waters settle,
and those logs lie still again
across the carefree shore.