I hear it in the darkness of a dream filled sleep,
my Father’s voice. Reassuring. Comforting.
Directing my every step in choreographed
mimicry of his own journey. I feel a hand
placed lovingly on a shoulder slouched
and weary from the burdens life provides.
It is an affirmation that my direction
is right and forward moving, all learned in the
spirit of his nearness. Nestled in this son’s heart,
respect and reverence are his, burnished
with love and temperament that his example set.
No regret comes with my genealogy.
I am my Father’s son. I will carry his torch.
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Walt, this is so touching. I just made a FB post that includes you in my thoughts.
ReplyDeleteYour dad would be proud.
This poem is just what I needed right now. It's funny how when we move through and evaluate the things in our own lives, such as you've done here, that's when we're able to reach others, as you're poem has reached me.
ReplyDeleteThe last line is perfect.