Archive
04/05/09 - (2)
Special Occasions
No mere coincidence brings me here, This mild April 5 Sunday afternoon. You were born a hundred years ago, today, Dad, In case you've forgotten. And though you may have stopped counting, I have not.
Perhaps this celebration of your birthday Is just my private way Of keeping in touch with your living spirit, Not letting the heart that sparked me into existence die, From my forgetfulness or neglect.
Maybe there's something deeper, more profound To these visits, on special occasions such as this, That motivates me to pay you my abiding respect. Could it be an ancestral obligation That goes millenniums back, to Jacob, Isaac, Abraham?
04/05/09 - (2)
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