Poetry

Of Hopes, Fathers, and Sons The Last Departure

Of Hopes, Fathers, and Sons

In the morning I rode into the valley of my father,
It was a lush place full of his dreams,
My father wished that it were my valley,
He wished that these would be my dreams also.

By a cool river that I had not wished for,
Was a me that my father had wanted,
He was smart and strong and dutiful,
I was not he and wished not to be him.

I killed that me by the river,
And rode out of the valley,
Wanting more than what had been wished of me.

In my father's now barren valley,
Above the yellow sand,
Lay the bones of his wishes,
A monument to my true self.

In the evening on my return,
I saw a young and familiar rider,
"Son," I said, "where is it that you go so late."

"Father," he replied, "I go to your valley,"
"I go to see what dreams you've had."
"I go to see what I can make of them."

The Last Departure

I had such hope for you.
So perhaps you could not help but fail.
Maybe I should have abandoned you
Or just that hope for you,
When I try to leave the first time.

There was always something caged about you,
A pacing of your soul,
I was fearful but never surprised when,
That caged part of you tore loose,
Striking me to the ground.

But I never thought you were vicious,
Even when I was bleeding,
Although you might have been,
It just looked like pain,
When I was falling.

So take your pain,
And I will leave my hope at your feet,
And I will try to leave for the last time.