Adam N. Duran

Biography

just a forgotten poet

The Promise

The Promise by: Adam N. Duran (The Forgotten Poet) I have always loved this place, the journey up here, peaceful, beautiful, while sitting upon this hill, feeling nature's embrace, and for but a moment, forgetting man's fate, yet 'tis hard not to reminisce, for 'tis thy own life, forever tied to man's plight. "Daddy." "Yes?" "It's beautiful here." "It is very beautiful." "Is this where we will watch?" "It is!" His small hand nestled in my tender grasp, a glimpse of youthful innocence, now fleeting, innocence now lost to our forefathers' clasp, the sins of past deeds, inherited by the meek, foreshadowed by the weak, and the powers that be. "Daddy." "Yes?" "Is it almost time?" "Yes." A gentle breeze shares its elusive caress, carrying a sirens' ominous chant, that siren, the only clue something's amiss, for 'twas false peace painted upon the horizon, birds chirp, oblivious to the coming night, clouds hover in the cerulean sky, unaware of the world's dire plight, and within thy heart, a desperate cry. "Daddy?" "Yes?" "Do you think mommy is going to be okay?" "I think so." "I'm glad mommy's not here." "Yeah... me too!" Thy son, now weeping, drew to me, he, frantically searching for solace in thy embrace, but 'twas thy love for him that brings great grief, for his sense of security had been replaced, and as a father, I had failed in his belief, five tender years in a state of eternal wait, innocent eyes upon a merciless world of hate. "Daddy?" "Yes?" "I love you!" "And I you... and with all my heart!" A blinding flash engulfs, eroding remnants of hope, the world silenced, unheard emotions surged, the earthquakes, as thy nerves shook, the mushroom cloud emerges, a wall of destruction, insurmountable, rushing to the hill on which we stood. "Daddy?" "Yes?" "Will it hurt?" "No, my son, it will be quick... I promise!"

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.