FATHER TO SON…
(Apropos A Quadriplegic Son Who Lived and Died Beautifully)
In the stillness of your own you taught us the circadian rhythms of life and its meandering flow— cascading life’s tempestuous realities; year to year gracefully wrapping pain into neat little packages to be opened in the still of night where you lay motionless; while spiritual healing moved from one solution to another as your soul communed with God.
How clever He disguised you: a bud in waiting.
When blooming synchronized itself with your unfolding you became a radiant sunshine of joy: then you gracefully slipped away.
Today a gentle breeze blew baptismal bliss over my every being and I felt your sweet soul soaring in the winds of time and heard your redemption
(Apropos A Quadriplegic Son Who Lived and Died Beautifully)
In the stillness of your own you taught us the circadian rhythms of life and its meandering flow— cascading life’s tempestuous realities; year to year gracefully wrapping pain into neat little packages to be opened in the still of night where you lay motionless; while spiritual healing moved from one solution to another as your soul communed with God.
How clever He disguised you: a bud in waiting.
When blooming synchronized itself with your unfolding you became a radiant sunshine of joy: then you gracefully slipped away.
Today a gentle breeze blew baptismal bliss over my every being and I felt your sweet soul soaring in the winds of time and heard your redemption