At eleven years old, by my Dad I was told
that I'd soon be enrolled, in a special Hebrew program
Try it for a year, my son, my dear
Do not fear: It'll be over before you know it
Hebrew you'll learn; for Torah you'll yearn
To God you will turn. You'll thank me for this in the long run
Well, my Dad was plain wrong. That year felt so long
It dragged and dragged along. Then, voila! It just ended
My Bar Mitzvah was good. I did my job like I should
Ate as much food as I could. And told my father I was quitting
My Dad was so sad. He felt I'd gone bad
Didn't care I was glad. Told me I'd made a mistake...
Years and years passed. My resolve didn't last
Just as my Dad had forecast. He'd been right all along
To God I had turned. For Torah I yearned
Hebrew I burned to relearn. But now I was sad
For Dad had passed away. His kindness unrepaid
At his gravesite I pray ~ that he accept my gratitude undying
September 01, 2020
Attitude of Gratitude Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
Categories:
unrepaid, appreciation, father son, inspirational,
Form: Rhyme
Change, and known becomes unknown
Hidden things uncovered
Angst on verge frozen
Negotiating new domains
Gaps of vulnerability
Emancipated to attain
Stagnant things die however
Protean things are suspect
I am sometimes ambivalent
Keeper of traditions vain
Erratic rivers are not ambiguous
Spent only at the delta's rich goal
Fear troubles still the comfort zones of ease
Expectations are those visited before
Averting not the vicarious door
Resistance falters only on the familiar lees
ii
I could have taken you there like child
The hand of the familiar is all we have to trust
If only I had concieved
How much strangers we had become
And what we had lost in shallow years
I would have given you voice again
Tender like a mother, firm like a father
Encouraging like a friend
I was so weary of lending feathers unrepaid
I was drunk on presumption
You would fly alone among the flaks and clouds
And come with rain at end of flight
To see me reaping before the night
A nest of straw and grain
I planted my tree of faith in vain, the limbs groan too with pain.
Categories:
unrepaid, loss,
Form: Free verse