Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I cannot write about my father.
Not yet.
Not while his life is a pale shadow
Behind the blinding glare of death
That floods my mind.
Sh’ma, Israel

I cannot find the words
To tell the world
Of his gentle soul
And generous heart
And boundless love
for those about him.
Adonoi, Eluhainu

I cannot find the voice
To rail against my pain,
To beg God, selfishly,
To send him back
From where he is free of his.
Adonoi, Echod

I cannot see the words
He left to me
Until darkness and rain pass,
Dying words from father to son:
“I hope I can be your guardian angel”.
Nor, can I tell him now
That he always was.
Amen