Marked the same.
A venture into certainty
Where never meant to be;
Though we will be here to see it
Flaunting the emptiness of its hours.
He would have been 76.
He missed my fortieth and
The birth of his third grandson;
The one named after his own father
Who carries the family name into the future.
But he cared little for such;
Never once discussing tomorrow’s
Shoddy politics or religion’s dirty tricks.
He was more interested in his present, which
Has now settled itself into history’s frozen garden;
Spared the pain of corrosion in favour of exploding hearts.
And suddenly gone from us.
Nearly 4 years now and still our
Sour mouths cannot reconcile the flavour.
And still I long to say my piece to his abductors
And hope they fear me as much as they should do.
Happy birthday Dad, I will love you until God has to stop me.