Father, Are You Real?

Poem on mystical characters and this is the poem to the almighty, that angels call as father.

Father, are you real?

I’m lost.

 

 An angel who stayed- 

I can hear people giving up. Whiff of air and I know they’ve given up. One sigh and I know they’re looking for excuses and one glance, I know they’re done. It pains me. It makes me feel the hollow within and forget the halo above. I wish I could toss it aside and help them out. But I’m made to wait. I’m made to watch. Why father? 

Why can’t you step down and why can’t you descend? My brothers have left. They’ve gone afar and maybe you’ve locked them away -for good. But I’m helpless here and I’m losing my sight. I’m losing the battle of faith. I see my siblings rejoice victory but I’m losing in something worse- I’m losing you. I can’t see clear no more and you’re missing. Did my brothers get to see you? Hear you? Or were they asked to leave? 

I wait for your orders and I hear nothing no more.  I scream into nothingness and no companion to see me. I feel like I’m in limbo but I’m here for the world to see. I see everything but nothingness greets me. 

“Hello darkness my old friend”, but he too escapes me. 

Father, are you even there?

It’s not that my love for them didn’t stem from you. I adore these creations- for they have a touch of you in them. I envy them, I crave them- for they’re your favourites. I blame them and I savour them- for they have your attention. 

But father, I was your firstborn- was I so wrong that you had a gazillion more or so pure that you had a gazillion more?

Wild maybe but doesn’t it worry you that they might call us creeps for staring at them day after day- into their sins and lives. Or would they worship us if they could see us? 

Are we like my cousins- the pageants or are we here to stay? If I am different, how? Father, would you have answers or is this a riddle I have to sort on my own- like everything else? Does this make you a good teacher or an ignorant father? 

Is your victory in mine or my loss?