Sunday, June 18, 2006

Dear Dad


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These deceased years: like an unidentified flash in the night.

the same flash that haunts me
day after day is father’s day

Dead Father’s day

I wish this day possessed magic
so I could tell you that I’m sorry
for all my wrongs, for not being a better son

when I see your grandchildren
whom you have never
I know that you are here
in the water of the stream
in the laughter of these children
who only know you as a picture

I can hear their smiles
as I hide and mourn
my Dead Father’s day

I will go to them
and fish as we would

I will listen to the spill
run over the rocks
and between our feet

trying all the while

to be here . . . right here
not reassembling time
to the day before

Dead Father’s day

8 Comments:

Blogger Erin said...

*hug*

love you James.

3:37 PM  
Blogger dave said...

nice work, the voice so sad is a very nice touch. i love the way you say 'identified'. cool

8:03 PM  
Blogger Sir James Eric Watkins said...

it is what it is.

thanks you two.

9:03 PM  
Blogger me said...

I hear you and am with you, my brotha!

12:48 AM  
Blogger Sir James Eric Watkins said...

There you are.

To live in the now is so important.

But not to remember, I cannot.

12:46 PM  
Blogger Mer said...

Haunting.



I really enjoyed it.

1:39 AM  
Blogger fineartist said...

Poignant, epiphanic and powerful.

Nicely read too.

1:01 AM  
Blogger Sir James Eric Watkins said...

thanks for the read, mer. You're a good person.


*Sir James bows to the fine artist lady as he backs away slowly into the shadows.

7:34 AM  

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