Red Rocks

Red Rocks

Monday, August 22, 2005

Writing by a real writer

I thought I'd start with a post from a writer who can really write. This is from a collection called Passages Toward The Dark by poet Thomas McGrath, and is simply titled "Poem":

My little son comes running with open arms!
Sometimes I can't bear it,
Father.
Did I, too,
Open your heart almost to breaking?

I've been thinking a lot lately about my relationship with my father and how things have changed...my three boys hug me and kiss me and tell me all kinds of stuff (some of which I probably don't want to hear). I don't remember saying much to my Dad that didn't absolutely have to be said, or listening to much that he said. Conversation just to converse was non-existant.

But then I remember that at least I've still got a father. The dad's of all of my friends from high school and early college are gone. Heart attacks. Diabetes. Emphysema.

My old Dad, who is hardly the picture of health, just keeps on going. He drinks a little too much beer, and watches a little too much football, and still can't carry on much of a conversation, but he's there, and I just need to grow up and spend some time with him before he's not there.

When I read McGrath my heart just about breaks because I know the love of my children, and I know I felt it for him, and he probably for me. Do I have it in me to ask him that question?

4 comments :

Norcalp said...

Hi Steve,

I was going to quote the little poem you wrote in my yearbook in 1975, but children may be reading this.

How the hell are you?

Paul

- r@fink said...

Check out the Ryan 1976 reunion website
http://www.geocities.com/brhs_1976/index.htm

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