Father

This is a poem to my dad Garth
whose pain ran within his veins
falling witness to a cycle
then a player,
from bone to meat
his heart,
stayed in a beat
filled to the top and emptied.
Cement to padding and bag to blanket
making fire from stone
He's gained what he lived for
Laying helpless plastered with regret, bed soaked
by my learning to cope.
I have fallen and plagued with memory
your desire I cannot defeat nor forget
because when I needed you
that side of the bed lay empty.
I thought you were focused
your life set anew but now I see
the mask that others knew
How the pain came in waves
getting back what he gave
anything can be taken in time, especially time itself.
So I write this for change, for strength, for love,
for you, my dad Garth, age 45, going onto nothing.