My father: Absent but always present

My father, who is never here, gifted me his hands - but not what was in them.

Maham Khan June 29, 2012
My father, who is hardly ever here,
Lines his walls with books
As though to prevent them from falling in.

The mismatched clothes he likes to wear,
They smell like thoughts
Of pine trees and topological functions.

My father, whenever he is here,
Lends me his helpless traits.
And I shelve them obediently, my walls mere imitations.

My father, when he goes anywhere,
Carries his roots with him
In the tilt of his head, in the clearing of his throat.

My father, who is never here,
Gifted me his hands -
But not what was in them.
WRITTEN BY:
Maham Khan Is an A levels from Roots College International, Islamabad and intends to start University in September. She enjoys reading, writing and listening to folk music to fill the time in between.
The views expressed by the writer and the reader comments do not necassarily reflect the views and policies of the Express Tribune.

COMMENTS (9)

zubair | 8 years ago | Reply nicely said, a Father gives you protection and guide you through walks of life. I miss that hand in my life. May he rest in peace ameen.
impersonal | 8 years ago | Reply nicely accommodated words. deserve a pat on your back :).
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