A Rare Moment Of Vulnerability

I am proud of my dysfunction;​

It proves I am not a robot. ​

I am surrounded by weakness;​

I succumb by excess of strength. ​

There were no flowers at my funeral,​

only bouquets arranged by the mourners. ​

The flowers would come to grow, and thrive, ​

however, from the worm-churned dirt of my grave.​

And no more I would there be,​

yet something far more beautiful. ​

I sang my daughter to sleep just now,​

with the refrain from "Hey Jude",​

only I changed the words:​

"Hey Love, I know you're still there.​

And I promise that I still care;​

But when I feel this ache in my Heart​

Sometimes its more than I can bear."​

I felt her head rest against my chest;​

I saw her eyes close, and peace on her face. ​

I wept as I laid her down. ​

In those tears I would drown:​

I am proud of her. ​

She's no robot.​

She needs Love too. ​

***********​

AUMGN, AMEN & AGAPE​

 

A soft power, steel wrapped in cotton, exudes from an open heart.

I remember when julia, my fathers second wife, died of heart palpitations.
At her funeral i was listening to 'hey jude' and wrote a poem about shards
of love. One line was, 'I hope someday her memories of happiness,
will no longer make you cry.'

Welcome back, fellow poet and brother in this life experience.

 

Goodness, that is. I'd like to spin off or comment or something but all i can do is nod. agradecimiento