My dad could stop the sun by Kevin Castro

When I was a kid, my dad taught me that getting angry could distract you from pain.

A little curse word when you fell, even if your body wasn’t injured, just in case.

A swing at someone when they annoyed me wouldn’t be too bad,

if they were hurt, they could swing back.

My dad was a titan when I was young.

He had a deep and booming voice that silenced the room when he was upset.

I could feel the very air around me come to a halt when dad got serious.

I always imagined he could reach up and catch lightning or stop the sun from setting.

I hate him with every fiber of my being.

Every day I wait for his voice to echo in

my mind | my heart | the room

Every day I hope the sun stops moving.

I lash out at the world in every way he taught me.

I plan to stop the sun myself someday,

to seize heaven and hell by storm

and demand that he show his

worthless | cowardly | shitty excuse of a 

soul to me

one more time so that I can

cry again | properly say goodbye | find another way to deal with pain