The separation from others around me, the loneliness.

Alone, I sit on a park bench,

no stars tonight, out of sight

under these dark clouds that haunt (me) us so.

Clouds with no rain,

a man, us men, experiencing pain,

of a place I cannot explain.

In my head:

Regret, ‘Take my hand’.

Freedom, ‘No, you keep standing on my feet’.

Regret, ‘But you’ll stay, stand and watch with me’.

The jealousy bubbles, ‘Imaging her dancing on your shoes’.

Standing, watching you scold your child.

Oh, they are such a pain in the arse, not doing what they are told.

Feeling stung, wanting to say something. They attack,

You don’t understand, you haven’t got kids. What do you know?

I know love.

In this journey of my trying,

as my life is nearing its end.

My thoughts leave my body lying.

I feel great sadness and desolation for what never was.

As parenting stood there crying,

for what was never (meant) to be.

Regret. Freedom. Jealously.

Stuck on repeat.

Freedom. Jealously. Regret.

Rattling in my head.

Jealously. Regret. Freedom.

Tearing at my heart.

Do they want to listen to my pain?

Not being able to sit and talk

to a family member, a friend,

and have them understand,

see them cry, when I cry.

Hug me and say,

I’m feeling what you feel, I’m here for you and I love you.

Do you want to listen to our pain?

A collaborative poem by Anonymous, Sikhumbuzo Dube, Ken Fenton and Andy Harrod

We are all members of The Clan of Brothers - A group to give childless not by choice (CNBC) males a safe place to find support and encouragement from their brothers around the globe.