Gone five years—July 12, 2024, the 93rd year of Philly Kane.
Holding The Line
In or about my eleventh year I decided the rules That governed me That governed our family Were not for me
These rules, enforced by my father
Lacked space
To breathe and explore
To be different and clever
To take the goddamn road less traveled
Yearning for freedom I searched like a Buddha
For a crack in the oppressive palace wall
A fissure eventually revealed itself and I broke free
To leap along city streets pursuing love and adventure
While those nagging rules were left behind for others
This rebellion came with a prohibitive cost
Nevertheless, I remained true to myself
And challenged my dad at every turn
Delivering blows that hurt him bad
But he was an immovable object, never standing down
An unenviable position to be sure
Drawing and holding that line
Not out of pettiness or spite
But out of the sacred commitment
He made as a father
As the years rolled onward
We made the uncomfortable accommodation
That old rivals often make
Learning where not to go, what not to say
With wounds close to the surface and visible scars
Now he is stardust floating in the firmament
And others glibly dismiss and write him off
But a wistful smile comes to my lips
As I take account and reconsider
The man who made me earn my place in this world
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