My Father's Yahrzeit
So, I woke up early this morning and started work on a poem that I am going to post here, which is about my Dad, and I feel it may be pretty good, though it will need work at some point, of course...
Anyhow, here it is:
This is not an easy world
to come to. Being born
here is never a promise
of anything , but I was lucky,
Dad, because I think you
knew that, and knew too
that it was up to you to make
this big world a place
of so much more than just
possibilities, where so many things
could happen, and more
could be made to happen:
I was a part of it all.
Anyhow, here it is:
Three Years
March 19, 2019
This is not an easy world
to come to. Being born
here is never a promise
of anything , but I was lucky,
Dad, because I think you
knew that, and knew too
that it was up to you to make
this big world a place
of so much more than just
possibilities, where so many things
could happen, and more
could be made to happen:
I was a part of it all.
I was lucky to have a father
that made me swing on ropes
in the park, and pushed me
to dive off the board during
summer. And, more:
that made me swing on ropes
in the park, and pushed me
to dive off the board during
summer. And, more:
you gave me books
that dared my mind
to reach beyond what I knew,
that dared my mind
to reach beyond what I knew,
that seeded thoughts past
what I could have then conceived.
what I could have then conceived.
You pushed me to see how big
and full of potential
this world is, and now,
I am here in a world
still so big, knowing
in all the places I might look,
and full of potential
this world is, and now,
I am here in a world
still so big, knowing
in all the places I might look,
no matter how or where I seek,
you will not be there,
you will not be there,
except in memory. How can
a world so full
be this empty?
a world so full
be this empty?
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