For my father…
On my wall
bright children’s drawings
sent in the mail
from children
mine, known only briefly
through short visits
on lasting memories
short-lived
The view from
my window, lacking
from my chair
braced by weights
of lost love
lost waltzes
through meadows
green with my youth
The bed hurt my ribs
painful…so painful
the man in me
stopped the tears
from falling on
the pages they sent
they deserved better
my daughters
holding in the spirit
for their short stays
Watching one of my girls
distant – disillusioned
hearing whispers
Mother’s kitchen
unsure of what it was
my wife
passed in my absence
is it possible the girls
were in need of me?
Fighting my chair
I could not get up
I could not run, to protect mine
the tubes held me down
my fathering absent
and only
the disease
if only my body was present
But those colored drawings
how they
brightened my days
they kept me from suicide
my girls
in innocent smiles
leaving them
it was not
going to happen, not yet
but Agent Orange
its brutality
of body planned
a battle that broke me down
As the days shortened for me
the faces
of my daughters
held me closer to God
and knowing
death would catch me
alone at night
I clung to their pictures
even tighter
Then the wind came
and down a hallway
she walked
my disillusioned daughter
holding my hand
she told me
all the things I needed
to know and hear
a dying man
needed to know
he’d be remembered
Photo Credits
Photo courtesy of Melinda Cochrane – all rights reserved
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