A Father’s Loss (II)

These are words I couldn’t share before,
Trapped in a growing earthen mould not yet equipped
To express the gravity of the thoughts that linger
And roam in the depths of this immortal soul.

I’ve seen things stranger than fiction
And heard things that cannot be put into words
I’ve taken steps falteringly, seemingly aimlessly
To a destination that couldn’t be surer.
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A Father’s Loss (I)

Each night as we slept the tears flowed.
I can’t deny that it shows –
The pain we’ve been hiding.
How do we say goodbye?

I can ignore your feet on my table, darling;
But not the name you keep calling
Every night when you moan…groaning till waking, saying;
‘Ah, Adriel, my little baby…why won’t you come to Mummy?’
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Fathers

To fathers – past and present.
To the past, a tribute; to the present, an ideal;
Because it would be a truly sad world,
When the best Dads are the dead ones.

“My father, my father, the chariots of Israel and its horsemen!”
A teacher whose words marked the path to the destinies of generations;
Fell along the way, leaving only a silent lifeless landmark
No more will I hear him whisper from behind, “This is the way. Walk in it.”
I refuse to recall the dirge about ‘how the mighty have fallen’;
When I cannot find your trusted well-oiled shield’s protection.
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