I Bury My Son

In memory of 'Ole', son of Terry

I bury my son

the rain falls

cold wet and miserable

I reach for something to say

but I am dumb

struck so

by your demise

We dressed you

in your sweatshirt

and trainers

the clothes had your

smell about them

I waited for you to speak

“Hi Dad I'm home”

but there was only silence

I wake in the middle

of the night

with thoughts of you

and what we might do

that day

then a wave

of remembrance

sweeps over me

and I remember

you are dead

A handful of soil

is my final act

which spatters

where your face

should be

the rain quickly

turning it to mud

I turn away

and see you

in the distance

watching us

as salted rain

runs off my nose

I want to cry out

your name

and ask why?

why and how

we came to this

a father laying his son

to rest

as the world

carries on with

it's own business

oblivious to our

grief

Goodbye my son

I may forgive God

in time

A long, long time

Reviews

[Relic]

Always a moving poem from you Irwin. The details you express are top notch and leave a lump in one's throat. It's good to see you stopping by. :)

[Irwin]

Thank you for your comment. I get so little traffic here so it is nice when someone takes the time to drop by.

[Relic]

No problem my friend. I'm on here as much as I used to be so I always check the online page to see if there's anyone I know. Booksie has died for me. no one I know there anymore.

Good talking to you again Irwin. Relic (Palewriter).

[Woody]

very touching. a father shouldn't bury his child. in the normal way of things, it's the other way around. sorry for your loss, Irwin.

[Irwin]

Not my loss Woody, Ole was the son of Terry Collett, a fellow poet, but thank you for your comment.

[Woody]

oops sorry about the mix up. nice poem though.

[Phil]

nice poem but Please forgive God.