Sometimes poetry is able to capture our sentiments better than long explanations. I hope this poem reaches you in this way.
Son to Father-
I don’t want to speak to you or share what’s on my mind.
You had your chance for all of that, now it’s far behind.
Leave my room and close the door, I want to be alone.
Go and do the things you do,
interests of your own.
You shout at me, you cut me off, impatience is your sign.
You look for things to fill your heart not caring what’s in mine.
Father to Son-
I can honor your request if that is what you need.
Much of what you’ve said is true, how could I not concede?
I’d like to make my case, but it would take a while,
and each defense I offer would just invite denial.
Instead of points and counterpoints let me apologize
and stop the fight before it starts, peace the distant prize.
Though my many faults could never be denied
I daily work to root them out; God knows how hard I’ve tried.
It is a fact that many times they were displayed to you,
and it’s a fact while they were there, other things were too.
Cameras and recordings to capture all you do,
every ball you caught, every fight you’ve fought,
the stuff that makes you, you.
I hope through all my faults and flaws someday you will see
other things were present too,
the things that make me, me.
The end Result, we Hope
One night a father overheard his son pray:
"Dear God, make me the kind of man my daddy is."
Later that night, the father prayed,
"God, make me the kind of man my son
needs me to be."
© 2018 Leland Johnson