by James B. Smith
I speak of a bond, Knowing in my heart it must be. Yet, Never will I feel this bond, This I fear. I am of age now, With greater understanding. Yet, I know, No matter how great my success, My success in life, This void can only be filled by one. He left with words, Words, Words reflecting someone else's view. Yet, Not once, Reflecting on what had come to pass. A colored view perhaps, A view none the less, One to allow him to move on, Move on from the past. The scars, As if canyons were opened. And now, Time acts as the wind and rain, Constantly exposing the earth, Beneath her covered surface. Yet, While we could not move enough mountains, So, as to fill these canyons, My scars, My pain, Might be filled, By the simplest of things. A warm embrace, Perhaps more than one. A touch, A touch to say I am O.K. A look, A look to say, Maybe, Just maybe, I am the son, The son he always wanted. And finally, A tear, As if to say, Just how much, How much I really was missed, And maybe even needed, Needed at those many moments of despair. For I know, It is because of him, Because of him I am here, And to think that life could truly be, As one alone, Is to be a fool. It is said, Said that life begins, Alone, And that life ends, Alone. Yet, Now I know, Life is much to the contrary, For I know, That we could not exist without one another. Yet, I speak not of this, For it is my being that cries, My soul that weeps, It is my soul, My soul that can never be complete, Without this, The love, The love of both him and her. And to think, To think I may never know, I may never know this completeness. Yet, I will always love you, I love you DAD.
Copyright © 1991-2005 James Smith, All Rights Reserved