Saturday, June 18, 2011


I hear it in the darkness of a dream filled sleep,
my Father’s voice. Reassuring. Comforting.
Directing my every step in choreographed
mimicry of his own journey. I feel a hand
placed lovingly on a shoulder slouched
and weary from the burdens life provides.
It is an affirmation that my direction
is right and forward moving, all learned in the
spirit of his nearness. Nestled in this son’s heart,
respect and reverence are his, burnished
with love and temperament that his example set.
No regret comes with my genealogy.
I am my Father’s son. I will carry his torch.


  1. Walt, this is lovely. It makes me think of my father, which I have been doing a lot lately. Thank you. I think you have inspired me to write a poem about my father.


  2. You're welcome, and thank you, Richard. My relationship with my Dad ran the gamut, but has inspired a lot of poetry which I have compiled into my first chapbook collection.

  3. Beautifully written poem, great use of enjambment.