In the Church of Childhood

poem

Photo by Artak Petrosyan on Unsplash

---

The stranger tells me
that I strongly resemble

his father. Then he pulls me
to the side and asks me

to apologize for how often
I’ve been cruel to him.

He's confused. That's okay.
I'm confused, too.

I’m not his father
but I am my sons' father,

so I quickly gather 
lumber and build

an unsteady chapel
then I kneel

at the ramshackle pew
and beg this stranger

to forgive my fatherly sins
because I need

my sons
to forgive me, too.