At a recent Comfort Zone Camp  in California, camper Matt rapped his thoughts his thoughts about his father. Matt has allowed Hello Grief to reshare his poem.
Corn fields sway, then go silent and stiff.
Not knowing we were about to abruptly
hit the end of this cliff. The commonplace
of love fills the atmosphere like smoke from
a chimney. However, it lacks limits, it’s given
out unconditionally. All smiles on his face, no
reason to be fretful. Ignorant of this life of mourning
and the dreadful. Sheer emptiness soon to come, hoping he
wouldn’t pass in vain. Pain so severe, this
heart feels like a grenade. Shattered dreams
of devotion, emotion and drifting thoughts like
a current of an enraged sea full of panic and despair.
Leaving me as fast as the wind stops blowing through
the air. Acknowledging that every gasp he took was one
more tick on the count down till his last. Looking over
him, involuntarily a witness to this tragedy. A spectator
to the human disease inevitably, plagued by fatality.
My eyes need band-aids, they are forever scarred for
life. Pleading to an entity. Screaming out words with meaning–
my feelings, like a soliloquy, but to nobody listening.
Cries for help unanswered, faith faded away like
Night to Day, heartfelt apologies, I never got to say, but
It’s okay. He didn’t die in vain. Trying to mask emotions,
despite all this pain. Trying to put on a front that I’m strong, but
I’m weak. Like a drizzling rain. Yet we all are, it’s in the human
nature to mask emotion. Fearing demotion to our reputation. Shock
at the wake of mortality and the fact that these skin and
bones are all but merely rentals. We don’t stay here forever.
Trying to reminisce on what we he had and not what
we didn’t ever. I’ll take the scenic route on this one, reflecting upon
the great we did together. Great outweighing the bad and the
paths that we took together. When I look in the mirror, all
I see is him. I’m his spawn, I’m his creation, it’s the epitome
of difficult shoes to fit. Hard to amount to and to be defined by.
There’s no silver lining or sugarcoating this in the limelight.
I’m Broken, however, I’m not glassware, I can be fixed,
like how he used to do with my disassembled toys.
He taught me selflessness, which I embrace and carry out
I always will remember the words I love you from his mouth.
He’ll always be the bridge to my success and my river to good
intentions. I’ll always remember you father, in all my recollections.
Do you have a poem about your loved one that you’d like to share? Send it to firstname.lastname@example.org