My shadow holds me against my bones, reminding me that I am a whole, walking to the place on paper, speaking in dark shadows of words. Be the whole, be the half, be the fraction of a fourth that becomes missing. If this slicked hair becomes hazy in the shadow, my shadow is lying. I am the mess, covered by a shadow – my shadow, or yours. I hope my shadow is the handshake with my father. I hope he’s back to stay, beside me, dancing shadow in shadow until the rose fades to black as night time dawns, taking my father away from me again. Shadow, come back with my father. Be back with his shadow, because I am not whole without his touch, I am lost. Be the handshake with my father for just one night. The roses clutched tightly in my palm, forgetting the thorns for just one night. When the light returns I hope he’s there, but you’ve left me with a white rose, and his shadow behind me, watching me love at my own pace.
– Emilyn Nguyen, My Father’s Shadow
↠ Emilyn's Journey ↞ 