Willed Body Donation Dept.
For my Dad
THE GIFT
This is the body
that shielded
wounded soldiers
under fire.
These are the arms
that carried them
through the jungle,
to safety.
These very arms
held me warmly,
when I cried,
and worked to provide
food and shelter.
These are hands
that carved sculptures,
painted
painted
beautiful landscapes
and portraits.
These are the feet
I stood upon,
that taught me
how to dance.
This is the back
I slept against,
in safety
from the storms.
These are the lips
that kissed my cheek,
sang songs,
and told stories.
This is the heart
that beat for us,
with steady,
unwavering love.
These are the eyes
that saw the world
as it really was,
but reflected back
what it could be.
These are the eyes
that saw injustice,
and the mouth
that spoke out
against it.
This is the head
that thought things through,
and guided so many
with wisdom.
This is the cancer
that took him from us.
Hate it
as we do,
and let that passion
fuel your work.
Here is the body
he decided to donate
some thirty years ago,
and now we also
let go.
Draw knowledge from it.
Teach with it,
Gain skill from it.
But above all,
Respect it.
Make this gift
worth all that we still suffer
from the loss
of his warmth
in this world.
I did not know your father personally but was able to hear his teachings through the Circle. It was such a privilege to hear him speak. It was obvious to me he was coming from place where I can only hope to get one day. Your poem is so beautiful. Your father's gifts keep giving. I hope this brings you some happiness in that fact.
ReplyDeleteSincerely,
Marcella
Thank you, Marcella. I appreciate that.
DeleteBeautiful poem, Very moving and touching. Thanks for the blog comment. I am a follower and will be back to read more often.
ReplyDelete