Kevin Michael Bloor

This Son of Sorrow

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.

 

 

 

Comments2

  • Goldfinch60

    It can take a long time, I can still see my father and know that I will join his Spirit with mine.

    • Kevin Michael Bloor

      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.

    • Laura

      Blue-eyed Bolla,

      A beautiful heartfelt poem!
      So profound! It brought tears to my eyes! I lost my dad a few years ago. There’s not one day that goes by that I don’t think of him!

      Love and prayers for your dad!

      ~Laura~



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