Even In Death You Have My Respect

I come from a time when fathers were looked up to.
They did whatever to provide for their family with food.
Some worked several jobs, ‘cause families were big, back then.
They had calloused hands, ‘cause they were actually men.
They never said nothing, but heard every, damn thing.
Making you wonder if they were some kind of Kings.
I can’t speak for everyone, but I know what I had.
An intelligent, black man, I could call my Dad.
Whatever he left me, it’s definitely in the Bloodline.
Because they’ll know about Jimmy, until the end of time.
He sure had a lot to do with who I am.
He gave me the sustenance to be a man.
Even in death, he deserves all my respect.
He taught me how to live through dealing with death.
I give him props, ‘cause that’s what Pops deserve.
Even in death, you are my jelly-preserve.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace