A father,

that’s what I am.

Head of the family.

So it should be

but is not.

Silent son to strident parents,

married off by them, for them.

My partner in life

strong woman, a wife

with nothing for me

only all for society…..

“What will they think?

What will they say?”

Her slogans, yesterday and today.

What would hubby say?

Never stirs her, no way.

I was of use

though steeped in abuse

before I retired;

a money cow.

but not now

not important enough

for life’s sweet or rough.

Even the kids don’t tell

what lives they live.

She controls it so well.

I'm just a shell,

an old man searching

for dropped grains of  love,

a desperate mouse

in my own house

of bricks and sweat.

I feel transparent.

Nonentity parent.

Invisible man,

in his own life span

with no magic dose

to reappear.

When I die

they will cry.

Rituals will swell

to a crescendo

over a body that died.

My mind? Disappeared,

long, long ago.

 (Sometimes, men too get a raw deal in marriage.
This is for them)