Letters to the Dead (pt 2) EDIT!!!


To my father. Not the man who raised me, but to the one who begot me; I don’t know if you’re alive or dead. I don’t know your name, or even if you’ve ever been aware of my existence. I’ve carried that knowledge like a mantle of uncertainty my entire life. I make jokes about it to mask the fact that it bothers me, but there isn’t a day where the weight of it doesn’t affect me. You are a heavy, weightless burden, bearing down in my mind and hanging over me like a cloud about to strike me down with an electric haze of “I DON’T KNOW”. It’s a little funny that I’ve never written to you before, can’t ever remember writing FOR you, either. You’re so much of a blank spot in my mind that I don’t even have a poem of ache for you. How do you describe a void? You are my emptiness. That hollow spot inside of me that I sometimes fall into,  and have to blindly climb my way out of… But I think I may have just come up with a little one, just for you, entitled The Bastard Daughter’s Prayer; “My father. Who Art where ever, Hollow is your name. You’ll never come, that prayer be done, since birth as it’s been forever.”

I need to fill in the hole you’ve left inside of me. Not with drugs, or distractions, with sex or with fear, but with myself. You’re never coming. I’ll never find out who you were, you’ll always be a Shadowman in my mind. Faceless, nameless, and the source of much fear and angst. Unless I compost over all those issues and fill that hole back up myself, you’ll always be a pit-fall of self destruction for me. SO… I’m sorry, but this is goodbye to the man I’ve never met. I can’t keep trying to hold onto a shadow.


I found out who he is. I’ve found his family. Trent Hatton. My father has a name. 


About Keats

Oh I'm sassy and I'm sexy, So silly sweet-and-sour Delightfully disastrous And deliciously dour I'm flippantly foolish, Filled I am with fear Can't concentrate completely, and my conduct isn't clear But to bravely be my best I Bring bravado back, BEHOLD!

8 responses »

  1. Damn. Just stumbled across your blog and starting with these letters/, if that’s a sign of the things to come I have to say wow. It sounds like you/ve had a hard life/ Like most wouldnt even be able to imagine like…well, damn. So sorry for your recent loss. Theres nothing so hard as a punch like that but it sounds like youre a strong one to have gone through so much. Especially to have come from such a defining absence in life like this. Anyone that can stand tall after such losses, looking at what they need to do rather than tallying up losses and letters like this help I imagine but wow.

    Site bookmarked. Saw you were a poet. Only got to check a few of you stuffs so far but I can tell im going to be coming back here.

    Swift healing!

    • Everyone’s taken knocks, everyone’s got ghosts. I just try to remind myself to knock back, and turn around and chase the ghost down. Most of the time you end up realizing you’re holding yourself back… And one of my favorite mantras when it gets bad is “it’s all relative, and people have survive much worse.” Anyway… I’m glad I was able to touch another person… It’s every writer’s hope to be able to do that, and these were just simple exercises in exercising some demons. Glad you plan to come back. 🙂

      • And as you are obviously well aware, the mind can make those burdens monstrous indeed; just as it can knock them crumbling on their heels. The mind is ever our greatest ally and most terrible nemesis. Hence, as your own letter does imply, my friend, if we can conquer it, and all its shadows besides…what a path that lies before us, what beautiful strength and perfection the realized individual could be.

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