He never knew, he never saw, 

I was the kid with the ball, 

dribbling dreams on concrete, 

making tackles in the fall. 

From little league to high school lights, 

Sports was the spark, my heart’s delight. 

Football fields, the basketball court, the diamond’s dust, became my home, my fort. 

Started getting calls in tenth grade, 

recruiters saw the moves I made. 

Scholarships for skills so grand, 

he never knew, he never planned 

to watch me rise, to watch me play, 

always had some excuse, some delay. 

Other dads in the stands, loud and proud, 

I looked up, saw no one in the crowd. 

Percussion beats in orchestra’s flow, 

concert band, jazz rhythm, we put on a show. 

Sticks in hand, music’s embrace, 

scholarships offered, put a big smile on my face. 

He never knew the songs I played, 

never heard the notes I’d laid. 

His absence hit me, a silent shout, 

made me question, made me doubt. 

My friends parents cheering, loud and clear, 

my eyes searching, no one was there. 

Alone I’d cry, alone I’d bleed, 

wanting just one nod, one deed. 

He called it waste, my passion’s fire, 

not seeing the fuel, not seeing my desire. 

He never knew the games I won, 

never knew the nights I’d run. 

Once he chased me down in his car and grabbed me with a furious grip, 

hit me with a baseball bat, bruised ribs, he split my lip. 

All because I chose the game, 

over watching my brothers, over honoring his name. 

Hurt ran deep, pain carved my path, 

but I turned it to strength, turned it to wrath. 

Promised my kids they’d never know, 

a father’s absence, a silent blow. 

He never knew the love withheld, 

how it scarred, how it swelled. 

But in the pain, a lesson grew, 

I’d be the dad to my kids that I never knew. 

Love, support and pride, a constant flame, 

breaking the cycle, shedding the shame. 

He never knew, he never saw, 

a son just wanted his father’s love and support, that’s all.

Brandon Basheer Umar Pemberton