Invocation for My Father, the Doctor of the War

You were broken long before you died,
But you loved us still.

Loved children, animals, the fragile beating things,
Even when your own heart cracked louder than your voice.

I didn’t call you hero then,
I didn’t know how.

You wanted me to be a doctor,
I became something else. But I still heal, I still carry your flame.

I felt your dying once.

It curled into my gut like a knot,

And then I was born again—

Through you, through her, through me.

You never looked like a saint, but you bled like one.

And now, in this cruel world you’re lucky not to see,

I miss your righteous anger,

Your soft hands,
Your absence that still aches like an unspoken prayer.

If you’re listening:

This is me saying it, at last.

I see you. I forgive you. I thank you.

And I miss you, my hero.