Analysis of MANTRA

Here’s what I always say:

No dad is better than a bad dad.

If you have no dad,
There are other people to fill the role.
There are others there to support you
Like a father would.
Or should.

If you have a bad dad,
The role is soiled.
Tarnished.
Burnt to a crisp by that dad’s actions.

His words,
How he spat them.
His hands,
How they gripped your throat.

He was not my dad.
He wanted to be.
I wanted to be adopted by him.

Can you imagine?

This man who threw things,
This man who got her hooked,
This man who took everything
And everyone down with him.

With no dad, though,
There’s a catch.

You are forever wanting to find him.
You are forever hunting for something to fill
Whatever shaped hole he left in you.

You are haunted
By the picture you painted
Of him in your head.

You see every man in the grocery store
Who fits the racial profile
As maybe, who knows,
Your dad.

Hoping that he’ll see you
And your mother
And say:

“Oh my God.
That’s them.”

Seek you out in a fucking Walmart
To introduce himself.

You cry whenever you ask your mother more.
You cry when you hear more.
You cry as she tells you
How beautiful it all was.

You were a love child.

You were born out of a dream.

He saw her under blue lights,
And said to her,

“You are so beautiful.”

And they talked, for hours.
Did drugs together.
Ran away together.
Made love together.
And had you.

You are a miracle.
You are miraculous, child.
But you were left behind.

He didn’t want to.
He loved you.
You’re sure he did.
He had to.

But they said it was wrong.
You know it was wrong.
But it was beautiful, wasn’t it?

The blue lights?
The hitchhiking?
How he said your mother
Must have enjoyed herself so much
That it determined your sex?

He didn’t care for your name.
It didn’t sound right.
You were meant to be something else.

You want to be something else.

Would he try and find you?
Would he die first?
Or would he die trying?

Would he never try at all?
Would he build a new life,
With new children,
In his home country?

Happy again,
Happy with someone else,
Another woman,

And another child?

No dad is better than a bad dad.
But it doesn’t feel like it.
And it never will.

You will always love him
And hope that he loves you too,
Wherever he is.

Heaven,
Hell,
Jail,
His home country.

And he
Will hopefully never forget you.
Wherever you are.

And hopefully
He hasn’t given up.
Because you haven’t.

Please, whoever you are,
Help me find him.
Because I can’t go on like this.

Heart heavy.
Eyes teary.
Cigarette pack empty.

Please,
I can’t even address you by name.
Please,
Find me.

I love you.
So much it hurts.
I hope you read this someday,
And realize it’s about you
And take the first plane to me.

I’ll be waiting.
Not very patiently,
But I’ll be waiting.

Always waiting
And wanting
To know you.