I’m sorry Father.

I am, father.

For my father, I will ignore.

For his Father, I will sweat.

And as a bead of sweat rolls down my head.

I’ll look down.

Perhaps up.

I will sweat into the pool of Holiness.

My reflection staring back at me.

Hands interrupting our contact as they splash water into my face.

My eyes closed shut,

My mouth gaping for air,

My mother frowning.

I’m foolish.

For this weakness,

that father has persuaded in me.