In His Eyes
by F. Marie Norton
(Honorable Mention • Poetry)

Looking at a picture of my father,
I notice so much that I failed to see when I was a child.

Something hid behind his eyes —
escape. To him something better
always existed further away.

That is the life for suicidal people;
they are never happy.

On his lips radiated a beautiful smile
hiding the turmoil that churned
beneath down to his soul. On the torn brown vest
rested dirt from the place he would
later come to take his final breath.
His hands rested upon steal, a method
of release. He used it to take life
from not only his prey, but from
himself.

In the end, it would only serve to extricate life
from what was already dead.

Clouds hover in the background.
Like his smile, they mask a light.
That light never dawned on me until it was too late.

The clouds no longer exist between us, Father.
Everything has become clear.
And in my heart I cry out to you —

Oh, Father, the path you chose for yourself
Is slowly choosing me.

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