The Fathers By Nathan Wainstein Donâ€™t look at the Fathers. Leering out of the dark, lights ringing their boy-faces, Lights turned inward, non-lights radiating non-shadow. Born with sacred eyes they have perceived History in negatives and girls and boys in technicolor. They are looking at you and not looking: the Fathers only detect contrast. You are like static on a security monitor, a freefloating soul. Your non-face is shattered. So donâ€™t look at them. Would you stare at the holes of a blind man?