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Being Back at Blackwater

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Being Back at Blackwater was inspired by
Going to a place that makes me cry.
Tears of joy, tears of sad.
3.21.04 was when I lost my dad.
Blackwater is the name of the church where he is buried,
For seven long years, he and my mom were married.
My first time walking across the dusty dirt road
Was going to his funeral, putting me in an unhappy mode.
Across the street is the fire station
One of many in the nation.
It makes me feel safe and happy
Unlike the swing set that looks awfully sappy.
Maybe I say that because I’m no longer a child.
I’m a teenager who can control herself and not go wild.
Now here come the graves as we stroll past.
Many emotions surfacing fast.
Families grouped together as they rest,
My heart is pounding out of my chest.
From this distance I can see,
Where the infant twins lay beside the tree.
Approaching his tombstone, I’m very near.
His voice calling my name I can hear.
Sometimes in life you wonder “Why?” -
Why do people have to die?
The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want
His blessings are something I love to flaunt.
Being in this vicinity makes me realize something,
The birds continue to sing.
The world goes on as these people sleep -
The days I shared with my father are memories to keep.
I feel sadness because he is not here.
He once told me I have nothing to fear.
Therefore on this property I have no anger or madness.

Knowing he rests peacefully brings me gladness.
I see a huge house across the way.
How don’t they get lost every night and day?
They have horses in the backyard,
I wonder is caring for them really that hard?
Then beyond is another exit made of dirt,
Those jumbled up rocks could explain my hurt.
Walking back to the car and next to my side
Is my mother holding my hand, no need to hide.
I’m comforted as we pass the church once more
Because all who honor God are behind that door.
I will always be my mother’s loyal daughter,
Even as we leave another day Being Back at Blackwater.



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