precious little shadows
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I never knew you ...
yet you were mine -
mine as completely as any other
that ever drew breath or dreamed a
dream
on this unforgiving orb.
"the choice" ... THAT choice,
was never ours, you see ... not really.
your mother, deathly ill, deteriorating
quickly,
our hands tied firm by actuality.
yet, still ...
your faint voice whispered us,
your tiny heart thrummed, coursing
blood,
your diminutive spirit trembled, vital,
as the "what ifs" slowly poured gloom
into our marrow.
oh, how beautiful you would have
been, I’m sure -
how intelligent and creative and
physically gifted,
full of life and mischievousness ...
with a little quirk that made you ...
YOU.
how would you have grown?
what would have been your joys and
fears?
your favorite books at bedtime?
your special treat on days you were
good?
your place of refuge when sad?
who would have been your first love?
what would have been the color of
your hair and eyes?
would you have looked more like your
mother, or more like me?
oh, how I've imagined the sound of
your giggle ...
how I've longed for the press of your
little hand in mine.
if but to tickle you into joyous
submission,
to place you on my shoulders, show
you the world.
if only to feel the warm sweep of your
kiss on my cheek.
countless and oppressive, the nights I
lay awake,
wondering every little thing about
you ...
all the special moments we were
robbed of …
all the extraordinary things you might
have said,
the ways you might have upset me,
and the special things you might have
done
to melt my heart and make me forget.
the incredible human being you surely
would have become,
or maybe have been happy, just to be
average.
untold, the moments I have thought of
you,
and all that another life might have
spun among us.
unfathomable, the chasm of remorse
beneath me -
a dark void created at a time and place
that is now a lifetime and another
world away -
myriad and cold, the hidden tears shed
at thoughts of you …
and ever BEYOND reckoning, the
times I have wondered
if you will be at The Gates to welcome
me,
if we will recognize each other,
(oh, I believe we will) …
and if you will come to me, running,
let me sweep you up in my tender
embrace,
hug me tightly, pressing your cheek to
my tears,
and whisper soft in my ear ...
"I forgive you, Daddy"
*~ 1ST PLACE ~ in the "Free Verse On Sadness (Again)" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor. *
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2017
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