Long Surefooted Poems
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My father, Joseph
my hero
was a chief
in the Navy ship
A veteran of World War Two
a mentor
though the years, surefooted
a guide
served 2 terms
got out ended up in Omaha
in a moment of loss
in a storm
found a woman named Annie Bell
proposed marriage till death did they part
you are the one,
my father, Joseph
you had some sons
of which I am one
I thank you, dad, for all you've done
I thank you for being faithful to mom
I thank you, dad, for showing me
how to save money
you were self-employed for 20 years
I saw in you a strong, loud little man
Only had tears in your eyes that I saw twice
When your mother died, when your wife died, mom
Miss you now that you're gone
Been 33 years since your death, in my prays I say
Happy Father's Day!
My heart pounded in my ear as I ran, stopping periodically – silent, listening. Was he coming? Had he figured out yet that I’d runaway. Was he behind me or would he be waiting behind the next tree or bush? Where was he now? Or was he only inside my head, that throbbing sound that penetrated through my hopes, my prayers, my faith, so that I couldn’t quite breath and so that I couldn’t quite find the strength to do much else but run from the arrogant weight of his darkness shadowing all my good, all my light, all my chances.
I took another step and stopped again to listen, checking the silhouettes of branches with leaves dancing a waltz along the path where my feet pressed into the rich, black Appalachian forest. I was surefooted on this trail since I’d spent most of my mornings walking these very tracks with my favorite partner and canine, the little white cock-a-pooh named Yogi who knew me as his person and friend, his comrade until the end. That was then, though. Yesterday, before the darkness had betrayed my spirit and set its claws into my presence, awakening the dread, the anxiety, the fear that was so strong it seemed to cling to the tears welling up inside of me, pouring rivers of sorrow upon the mountains surrounding me.
In just minutes I found myself wading through the creek where the clear, cool water whispered, laughing at my alarm, promising my thoughts that the terror would soon be gone. Only, it would not. It was there, a lasting dismay, treading the waters of my prayers, hollowing out a hole inside my mind where it told me I was about to learn what it means to live the nightmare that has haunted me for all time. He was alive and as long as he lived I had the fear that could not be calmed, the fear that was like a vine clinging to the blossoms of my hopes, my dreams, my needs. He was alive and he wasn’t about to relax his hold on my yearnings and let me go free.
Chapter 1 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
September 18, 2022