...a father's wish - verse #2...

Oh my little child, what changes will you see?

So unaware of the world now that is now to be

your new home so far away from my heart,

now that we have grown up and grown apart.

Oh my little child, were you ever aware

of the gaze of the world’s persistent stare?

To look upon a child so meek and so mild

discouraged to ever let you once run wild.

Oh my child, what will this new found freedom show

to your young mind so inquisitive, so eager to know

those secrets of the universe, waiting to be unlocked.

I pray for you, that you’ll never once be blocked

     in your quest to find who you really are .

Oh my child, I pray so heartily that you are never far

in spirit from the loving arms where you now are.

With a world now at your fingers, so easy to touch

you’ll never be who you were, at least, not so much.

Oh my child, once again, above all I pray that will you forever know this;

I’ll always be there, in spirit or flesh, to give you one last goodnight kiss.

Forever will you stay here, tucked in my arms,

Never, ever, will you have to fear for safety or harm.

© 2014 p.hill

Obscenely Serene

We met in the emergency room, remember?

Your quiet blue eyes rolled past me, just a subtle glimpse.

On this putrid summer day, not yet September,

your pale skin fairly glowing under tawdry overhead light.

Your face didn’t seem to indicate a desire to converse.

I wanted to ask you what your story was,

but I seriously doubted that in any universe

my imagination could compare to the truth of it all.

We passed in the hall; such a sterile meeting place.

Not even a whisper of breeze, so obscenely serene.

I know I shouldn’t look at you, in such a state of disgrace,

but your face tells me there is a story, begging to be told.

Underneath the white cotton sheet your body gives form

to a frail body speckled in blood and delicate gore;

body’s human perfection now broken and torn.

A testament to trauma’s unlimited capability.

Outside the automatic doors the swollen clouds have ruptured,

pouring sweaty tears down upon blistering concrete sidewalks.

Mother Nature herself gnashes at the audacity mirrored

in the cold and chemical bleached hallways of this tomb.

We met one day, not long ago, in an emergency room

hall while outside nature disapproved of the slight against

one of her children with lightning and thunder’s loud boom.

So quick was our introduction on that fateful day that

there was no way to properly introduce myself, much less

a proper way to say goodbye.  I was on my way out the door

and you were on your way to the morgue.  But, I digress,

too much do I wander in thought.  For we shall meet no more.

© 2014 p.hill