The Journey
Run, run catch my breath, if I'm not there I'm good as dead,
Pacing station platform rooms, wondering if the birth has bloomed,
Changing platforms, changing trains, standing soaked in pouring rain,
Final stop is almost here, bursting out with all her gear, bags of this and bags of that,
Kitchen sink and family cat,
Up the hill and through the park, feeling vulnerable in the dark,
Streaking forward to the ward, cooing nurses with baby food,
Being ushered toward the room, gowned and masked "its really soon!"
Greeted by a scowl of scorn, "your late the babies just been born!"
Then the world in an instant changed, mid the wrappings captures my wonderous gaze,
A son, so small yet perfectly formed, my macho image a tearful pool,
The struggle that follows, no more than a haze of birthdays, Christmas, holidays,
Growing quickly, too fast it seems, as he stands before a mirror in my old blue jeans,
Before I know it he has a girl of his own, from Boy to man he's out on his own,
Successful, accepted, his future secure, but wait somethings wrong, oh my God no he is gone!
Shuffling feet in the cremetorium chapel, kind words of love give way to a song,
What brought us together has dwindled to dust, perhaps I failed someway with the speed of my rush,
To greet him and hold him to love him soo much, dreams lay in tatters, love crumpled and crushed,
Forever the young, forever the lost, the journey ends at a grave with a cross.
Paul Letch
Mon 7th Jul 2014 23:03
My deepest thanks extended to you for your kind, sympathetic messages of support.
The Journey, relates to a thirty four year period that changed my life forever, punctuated by the loss of my eldest son.
Concise, untidy, spontaneous, true.
Yet as we speak in facets of life, of love, of honour, tho in angels footsteps we lightly tread for fear of the darkness.
Regards
Paul