STILL.

A FATHER TALKS TO HIS DEAD SON.

The enormity
of the grief
pushing down

on the aged shoulders.
Words fail me
seemingly,

one word in front
of the other,
like one learning

to walk again;
word utterances,
seem so banal,

so ordinary,
do not do justice
to the feelings felt.

Your words,
last of which,
ok or don't know,  

are kept in mind
or memory or on
cell phone click.

You-
the best of-
to go

in such a way.
Dark ward,
lone bed,

at the far end.
What philosophy,
what faith,

what hopes
can make amend?  
We were there

at the final sail
of ship's departure,
my son,

hand holding,
arm stroking,
whispered hopes

sent to air's feel.
Your death,
untimely,

unbelievable,
in comprehensive,
still.

Reviews

[John Anderson]

This is such a sorrowfully written but beautifully expressed poem.

[Terry Collett]

Thank you, John.

[WritersRankings]

This is pretty haunting Terry, not quite sure what to make of it. I'm sure there are great stories beyond a lot of your verse. Life is so epic and at times traumatic. Thank god for art.

[Terry Collett]

Thank you.

[AF]

Wow, that was beautiful. My eyes are glistening with tears. Very well done. :)

[Terry Collett]

Thank you for reading & comments