A couple poems I have written to/for my Dad ...ones kinda old from when I was a teen
. my Dad died from masive heart attack at home
everyone called him chief cus he had 6 of us kids and he was half American Indian...
anyways Dad I miss you even thought I know your right next to me and inside me...I MISS YOU EVERYDAY!
CHIEF HOUR PASSING ( DAD) 1979 T .M. B.
Whatever you have seen along the way ,
Did you see it all again that day?
Were you bound to the bed against your desire?
Did GOD come to you and call you a liar?
Were there any lights that were calm and cool?
Did you reach the end and feel like a fool?
Was there any chance of “ waking up “ again?
Did you break from the heat unable to defend?
Was it like you have been there before?
Recognition so strong you couldn’t ignore?
Did you go out on a granted wish?
Or did you go out on a swinging fist?
I watched you helplessly slip and slid
Nothing but gaze as you went to another side
If your pained now or not I cannot tell
I just know it was some kind of hell!
When I saw you so dark purple and blue,
I knew I was to far late, nothing I could do.
I stayed with you till the very suffocating end.
I gave my tears ; but the rule would not bend.
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Chiefs alter (for Dad a.k.a. “chief”)
My chronicle returns to chiefs alter,
That is bolted to cement-covered starting line of foreshore.
Rambling and saunter the stretches of beach between spaced accesses,
Emerging onto the jetting bouldered destination,
A small tribe gathers to mug up noshing the stash.
Retracing as cool smooth sticky sand cradles my feet.
Climbing back threw warm white powder, that squeals beneath me.
The pack assembles to drench crystal ocean dust away.
Now ashes have been mixed in this dirt and sand.
Here songs are many, waves of far off times splash into my ears.
Bringing you granddaughters you’ve yearned to know.
The ocean churns up sparkled seashells at their feet,
Breezes whisper soothing dreams into their souls
A large tribe gathers to mug up.
Along pointy rocks that poke the oceans side.