Still Growing Up At Forty Four

Two years after the death of my father.

More snow atop the mountain as I stand
before the wall of truth.
Exhausted with dolour in knowing that
you have forsaken me.
Unapproachable, fearing the future, alone
and melancholy.
Your teachings linger in my mind, but do
nothing to soothe my broken heart.
Existing in the semblance of your life,
while others look to me for direction.
Omitting the opportunity to resume a
normal life, expected to fulfill your
responsibilities.
Circumstances have all of my tomorrows
prearranged, while determination keeps
me lucid.
Endurance and wisdom fail to alleviate
the pain, perhaps, I continue to grow
up at forty four.