"My Clandestine"

A poem that I wrote for my father who I have never known...maybe one day

“My Clandestine”

 

To you

A Face...

A Name....

A Person....

A voice unheard.

This I write to you

And while I’m sitting here in the back of a downtown mall outside a store of gadgets and electronics. At the area of rest and socialization on a table still partially shrouded with the droppings of the last occupant’s meal.

Willing but failing, attempting but cramping (weird, I haven’t yet filled but half a page) to form the words in ink that are swirling around my head, consuming my heart and soul, driving me to wonder who is it, this mysterious entity that now so astonishingly plagues me?

Yes

Who owns the face I have but never seen?

Who carries the name I have but not yet spoken?

Who calls with the voice magnetizing me unto this expedition?

Though it is true that i may never find the answers (even though it is but engraved upon stone that all I need do is give them but a quivering voice) the thought of having you in my life even for the miniaturist of fleeting moments.

 

A day...

A week...

A month...

A year...

Forever?

 

A second...

A minute...

An hour...

Maybe even longer?

 

A glance...

A nudge...

A handshake....

A kiss?

 

These dreams I do dream upon merely shapeless airplane wishes for my

Clandestine

To somehow exist.

But perhaps it starts with the simplest of life’s journeys...

Yes I must find myself before I can forging ahead on my pilgrimage to illuminate the shadows and tear down the walls upon which a distant voice does echo so futile that it’s audible though by the slimmest of margins just. Five feet ten inches I stand at a guess, though questionable are height’s measurements. Green eyed with hair once of blonde, faded to brown with time’s mystifying elapses skinny and soaking wet at a weight of merely one-twenty yet wide set are my shoulders and with a heart and drive unmatched agile and flexible beyond belief, though shy and self-conscience. Quiet and outwardly confident �" a highly trained combatant, some think an easy target, intelligent and realistic but with the disorder of Attention Deficit. My taste in music unlimited (Martina McBride to Billy Talent ‘NOStradamus’ to Red Jumpsuit Apparatus) and a choice of dress still undetermined (loose and baggy to tight and classy,) I am an underdog, though I always rise to the top! A poet domestically and internationally published, though I remain unknown and unaccredited but with aspirations of being famous. Laughing and living, free and focused, wild and grounded...loving life with a single status even though a wifie and kiddies wanted. A look inside hath been warranted so thus presented. Admittedly however, thy internal journey nowhere near completed though positive progress has been made and ever more shall it be toward my pilgrimage to find

 

The face

The name

The person

The voice unknown

 

....

 

To find my

Clandestine!

 

January 9^th, 2012

Tanner Reiss