July 20, 2020

From a Father to his Son: I miss You. {Poem}


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I dreamed you were sick.

I could see you,
but not touch you,
or talk with you.
And you couldn’t see me.

I traveled over bad roads,
through terrible storms.
My companions fell away
one by one.

When I found you,
you were alone
Tears streaming down your face,
I watched your chest heave with sobbing.
The hospital was crowded,
frenetic, overwhelmed.

I stood watching your suffering
and your fear.
A parent who could do nothing
but stand there
calling out to you.
Cries that you never heard.
A touch that you never felt.

I woke with my heart racing,
sat on the edge of the bed
and wept.
Will we see each other again?
Will it be safe?

You, a young man trying to build a life;
work, school, friends.
Cautious, but me,
older, asthma, at risk.

Phone calls and text messages are just methadone in relationships.

I miss our trips,
our hugs,
sitting next to each other,
putting my arm around you,
hearing about your life,
telling you that I love you,
and how proud I am
to be your father,
to be your friend.

Father and son
my dream.



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