I stand above my father’s grave,
and ponder the passing of life.
At five years old he left my side,
A man to figure out a man’s world alone.
His mind is now dust,
tormented no more by dark thoughts,
questions, doubting, and silent cries.
No pain to soothe. All is quiet.
I know his pain well,
for those dark figures also haunted me.
You fought as you knew best,
And taught me what weapons would harm me.
I lay upon my father’s grave,
my head upon his stone.
I know one day I’ll have such rest,
And my loved ones will journey on without me.
The sun warms my face but my soul is cold.
The end, the ground, the grave.
I fear that my stories and love will be buried,
I fear that I will die only when I learned to live.
I walk away from my father’s grave,
knowing that this day I am alive.
I can make memories and love,
and give life to all that is within me.
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