The Weight of a Father

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In the hush of night, some children rest,

Cradled by arms that shelter and bless.

A kiss on the brow, a promise unspoken,

Love flows in silence, steady, unbroken.


But in that same night, another child lies,

Longing for comfort that never arrives.

Their lullaby is the echo of space,

An emptiness carved in a fatherless place.


Some hearts are threaded with warmth so near,

A bond unbreakable, strong, sincere.

Others are stitched with invisible scars,

Reaching for hands that stay afar.


What a strange world, where two truths reside—

One in embrace, one set aside.

A father’s touch can anchor, or sever;

Its presence shapes always, its absence—forever.


So let us remember, in all that we do,

The weight of a father is heavy, true.

To love is to heal, to neglect is to scar—

Both write their stories in who we are.


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