8/13/2019 Knock Knock the poem

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Knock Knock

Daniel Beatty

As a boy, I shared a game with my father

Played it every morning till I was three.He wo ld knock knock on my door,

And I!d "retend to be aslee" till he got right ne#t to the bed.

$hen I wo ld get " and % m" into his arms.

&'ood morning, Pa"a.(

And my Pa"a, he wo ld tell me that he loved me.

)e shared a game,

Knock knock,

*ntil that day when the knock never came,

And my +ama takes me on a ride "ast cornfields

on this never ending highway

$ill we reach a "lace of high r sty gates.

A conf sed little boy,

I enter the b ilding carried in my +ama!s arms.

Knock knock.

)e reach a room of windows and brown faces.

Behind one of the windows sits my father.I % m" o t of my +ama!s arms and r n %oyo sly towards my Pa"a!s,

-nly to be confronted by this window.

I knock knock trying to break thro gh the glass,

$rying to get to my father.

I knock knock as my +ama " lls me away

Before my Pa"a even says a word.

8/13/2019 Knock Knock the poem

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And for years, he has never said a word.

And so, / years later, I write these words

0or the little boy in me who still awaits his Pa"a!s knock.

&Pa"a, come home, 1ca se I miss yo .I miss yo waking me " in the morning and telling me yo love me.

Pa"a, come home, 1ca se there!s things I don!t know,

And I tho ght maybe yo co ld teach me

How to shave,

How to dribble a ball,

How to talk to a lady,

How to walk like a man.

Pa"a, come home, 1ca se I decided awhile back

I want to be % st like yo , b t I!m forgetting who yo are.(

And / years later, a little boy cries.

And so I write these words and try to heal

And try to father myself.

And I dream " a father

)ho says the words my father did not.

&Dear son, I!m sorry I never came home.

0or ever lesson I failed to teach, hear these words213have in one direction with strong deliberate strokes

$o avoid irritation.

Dribble the "age with the brilliance of yo r ball"oint "en.

)alk like a 'od, and yo r 'oddess will come to yo .

4o longer will I be there to knock on yo r door,

3o yo m st learn to knock for yo rself.

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Knock knock down doors of racism and "overty that I co ld not.

Knock knock on doors of o""ort nity

0or the lost brilliance of the black men who crowd these cells.

Knock knock with diligence for the sake of yo r children.Knock knock for me.

0or as long as yo are free,

$hese "rison gates cannot contain my s"irit.

$he best of me still lives in yo .

Knock knock with the knowledge that yo are my son,

B t yo are not my choices.(

5es, we are o r fathers! sons and da ghters,

B t we are not their choices.

0or des"ite their absences,

)e are still here,

3till alive,

3till breathing,

)ith the "ower to change this world

-ne little boy and girl at a time.

Knock knock,

)ho!s there6)e are.