A Farewell...

A Farewell to the Wise Man

A man, a wise man, told me

life was more than death;

concise, but the truth

of our youth was split

down the middle

of a past never far away,

but too painful to remember

like when Dad flew into his

drunken rages

and we’d scatter like mice

to go down to bed, pulling

the covers above our head

and making silly faces

as we put our

fingers in our ears.

The muffled yelling

went without a candle

to light, much less

a flame to warm,

our chilly room.

So, we’d think about

being somewhere else.

We’d rush to judge ourselves

when the world gave us hell.

But they didn’t even judge

themselves.

A man, a wise man, once told me

when the rich wage war

it’s the unfortunate that die.

Impoverished families pay

in blood for bombs that save

no one but greed pays well

The wise man is who we buried today.

You were the wise man.

A wise man, you, once told me God

has you in His hands.

I believed it then, and I believe it today.

Your son turned eighteen today.

I told him what you’d tell me.

Reasons happened, but nothing happens

without approval from the guy chilling upstairs.

You were such a good man; it’s just too bad you

had to take Dad’s path and drink whiskey over rocks.

You’d be proud of your son; he’s off to college

with the money you saved for him.

He won’t join the army like we did.

He’s got his head on straight.

You made sure of that.

He told me that he was proud to be your son.

He told me to tell you.

God. This is so hard to say.

He told me to tell you he loves you,

which was something we could never tell Dad.

Something we’d never heard from Mom and Dad.

You’re the wise man that kept me from making

the same mistakes.

I’ll keep coming by now and again.

I swooped to dust his headstone.

Staff Seargent Edwards, it reads.

There’s a picture below of your son

up in one arm and your wife in the other.

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Twitter: AC0040