NAMESAKE
And I won't be there
when disconsolate
you'll cry
Because
you pinched your hand
or
playing ball
got hit, got hurt
or things didn't go
so well
Neither will I exult with you, your wins
or soothe the pain of your defeats
While others turn and find someone
to share with them their joys
or feel the pains
you'll be alone
I will be gone
And I won't be there to counsel
and prevent slips
in your adolescent years
that might result in walls and chains
and adult tears
Arrows that soar
from miles away
unerring, find my heart
In sleep, I dream
of shielding you from all
Instead, I lie awake
and feel you from afar.
3 comments:
How lucky a person must feel to have a Dad to celebrate with today. Instead, a sat this morning and wrote a letter to my siblings telling them about our father. He died at 39 when I was only 9 but I am amazed at how much, in such a short time, he was able to teach us - especially me, the eldest. Having no formal education himself, he learned by never saying that he could not do something. He went for it and succeed because he wanted us to learn from him. He did not get to see any of his children graduate and be successful, but it sure feels very nice to have the many memories of what he did to make us happy as a family. Like my Dad, there was none other, but deep down I can not stop wondering what it would have been like if he had been with us as we were all growing up. I hope he would have been proud of us and I certainly am proud of him. If you have your Dad, tell him now! I didn't have the opportunity to say good-for he died suddenly while I was in school where he expected me to be. Happy Father's Day in heaven Papi and hug Mami for us. Also, huelito y huetita.
I had an exempt parent and that is why I don't celebrate this day but only with my children and I don't pretend. I don't like to cheat on myself.
Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas a poem about his Father as he lays dying
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