His childhood was happy,
until it wasn’t.
Death called too close to home.
Unwanted family estrangement trailed close behind.
Alone in a place where even the language
plotted to make a shy boy lonely,
War, dark and ugly,
tried to swallow him whole.
In a world where men didn’t cry,
he sobbed like a child
while his best friend died in his arms;
he refused Death when it called for him
and never forgot.
No one told him life would be easy;
he would’ve recognized the lie,
but with courage he didn’t acknowledge
In a life filled with loss
he still marveled at the little joys:
the beauty found in nature,
a good meal,
a miracle win in the World series,
the laughter of children,
wherever they came from.
I’m awed by the inner strength
of such a gentle spirit,
and hope I’ve inherited
that sense of wonder
required to persevere.
~Elise Skidmore ©2017
I shouldn’t have read this today, very beautiful.
Thank you, Susan. We persevere.
Beautiful, Elise. I’d say you have inherited his gentle spirit.
Thank you, Denise. I’d agree with you on the gentle spirit. My dad and I were very much in sync. I hope I’ve inherited his inner strength and courage that he thought he didn’t possess.