photo: Caitlin Stockman
Sam, reach out and take my hand
Even though you don’t know who you give it to
Like when I used to put mine in yours
To do everything I wanted to do.
You taught me, keep my eye on the ball
And then to swing the club right through
They talk about the sins of the fathers
I got so much more than that from you
You did your job as my front runner
I tucked in and you set my pace
It’s hard to watch you step off the track
To leave me to find my own space.
I turn off Tim Wheeler at the Roundabout
A round about a mile away
Take a long deep breath in the silence
To find the resilience and something to pray
The knot in my soul when I’m going in
Is only bigger and tighter when I’m leaving
Walking and talking in your glass coffin
Living in the pain of perpetual grieving.
Sam, reach out and take my hand
Even though you don’t know who you give it to
Like when I used to put mine in yours
To do everything I wanted to do.
Deeply poignant, Steve
Posted by: Neville | 17/06/2019 at 08:05 AM
Your words are so moving and well found. You really found the right words to describe how you're experiencing this period with your father. Close and the distance. He's there, but also not...Thanks for sharing your life, heart and the reality of life. Grace and comfort for you, dear brother! Jan Vierhout
Posted by: Jan Vierhout | 07/01/2020 at 06:40 PM