Topic: For my Dad. Scott Hodgson.
Anchor and Hope
Tonight my throat is choked, holding back more tears that have already left my pillow soaked. My pillow's a moat, my faith a boat, my pain an anchor, a rope... my hope. Awoke from sleep, from my eyes tears seep, rolling down a steep cheek that land upon my sheets. As blue as my eye is as blue as the sky, teardrops fall down like raindrops one at a time. The emotions are real, the emotions peel from my heart, and slip through my shut eyes which I've tried to seal. My heart is torn, I lay in mourn mixed with emotions of scorn, but the emotions storm from my eyes in liquid form. My soul is worn, there's a pain in my chest that I cannot digest, I can't express, instead it's nested into an infest of hurt upon my family's crest. It's pressed painfully upon my wounded breast, as if I'm wearing a vest, compressing each breath, until there's nothing left.
Tonight I dream, a stream of memories, playing on my memory screen. A reel of memories that's real, a reel that helps heal, a reel I can't touch but can definitely feel. The dreams are serene but the memories are a keen reminder what will never be seen, what will never now be. Me, I replay in my mind, since I know where to find, where time can recollect, where time can rewind. Like a movie I can see, in order to see you again, the irony is I must close my eyes and there you'll be. It leaves me ang-er-y in tears of the abundance of years that should of had with you if it weren't for the terminal fear. But with images as sharp as the sharpest knife, nothing will suffice as seeing you in real life. But I hold tight to these thoughts, their caught and held tightly so they are never forgot.
Tonight is now today, awake with what sayings to put on this page.... Dad, I prayed for you to stay, for the cancer to stray or delay, and for your pain to somehow go away. I watched your body decay, your illness became blight, as much fright as there was, I wanted to fight your fight. Tightly I held on, and your condition turned plight, watching you suffer mightily was hard for any man's sight. But I didn't let go, I couldn't let go, no I wanted to show you I was there for you, I wanted you to know. Although the weaker you became the stronger you had become, at times it felt you were winning a fight that we knew could never be won. But I picked you up and held you up when the disease knocked you to your knees and your strength was holding me up without even touching me. But I had to believe, that if that were me and I had a son, I did what I would have wanted my own son to have done. But inside, at your bedside I was there for you to confide. Beside you while you cried to me, kissing your forehead as you took your last sigh. So as you fly above, this is not good-bye, only a temporary part; because you will always be a part of me, , made from your life and in my heart.