Somewhere, set free from pain, he lies
Beneath the grey, indifferent skies
A husband, brother, son and friend:
My father till the bitter end!
His watch, his ring, his car, his gold,
His suits, his shirts: they’ve all been sold
His garden’s grown, but gone to seeds
His flowers wilt, waylaid with weeds
Someday, when he has long been dust
And garden tools have turned to rust
I’ll make myself re-find that place
Where I first saw my father’s face
And I will kiss that sacred ground
Where childhood’s peace was so profound
When I would watch him dig and plough
With bended back and beaded brow
Somehow, since Time’s a healing thing
I’ll wait, like bird with wounded wing
For years, till grief at last will yield
For father, in that far off field
Then I will pray a pilgrim’s prayer
Cast off my craven coat of care
Let unwept tears fall fast to free
This son of sorrow who was me.
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 6th, 2018 06:42
- Comment from author about the poem: Finally, after so many years, coming to terms with the death of my father.
- Category: Family
- Views: 28
- User favorite of this poem: Lauraš».
Offline)
Comments2
It can take a long time, I can still see my father and know that I will join his Spirit with mine.
Thank you. Yeah, I think about him more in June.(his birthday was June 2nd) Also, with father's day approaching (UK) and my own children will be sending me cards etc. I've grown up from age14 without a dad, but think of him more since I became a father. Again, thanks for your support.
Blue-eyed Bolla,
A beautiful heartfelt poem!
So profound! It brought tears to my eyes! I lost my dad a few years ago. Thereās not one day that goes by that I donāt think of him!
Love and prayers for your dad!
~Laura~
Thank you, Laura. Sorry for my late reply.
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