Never Proud Of You

Twenty years, I’ve held the line,
In silence strong, through rain and shine.
No medals pinned upon my chest,
Just tireless steps and little rest.

I gave my hands to healing pain,
To strangers’ needs, through loss and strain.
Spent 10 years with kids on frozen rinks,
While others cheered, I stood and blinked—
Exhausted, cold, but always there,
A shadow shaped by love and care.

Two hour commute per day, behind the wheel,
To give my small world a safer feel.
A house built by aching limbs,
With every nail, love whispered hymns.
I bled into those walls and beams,
So others lived their easy dreams.

Gravel roads and distant trails,
Where will alone outran the gales.
I conquered Big Sugar, I conquered Unbound,
With fire that scorched the broken ground.
Victories that few could see,
Except the man I swore to be.

But not one time, through all the years,
Through swollen joints or stifled tears,
Did she say what hearts ache to hear—
A truth both simple and sincere:
“I’m proud of you.”

So here I stand, not crushed, but worn,
Not bitter, though my soul feels torn.
I carry silence like a stone,
But I have never walked alone.
For in the mirror, I now see—
A man who’s lived with dignity.

And if her voice won’t ever ring,
I’ll still rise proud of everything.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved

Presumptuous guy
please walk on by
it's a bit too positive
to be suggestive

I’m Sorry for the Storms (Now I See)

I never meant to bring you pain,
Or leave you standing in the rain.
But battles raged inside of me,
Fought in silence—PTSD.

The scars I carried, deep and wide,
Became the things I couldn’t hide.
And in the chaos, love got lost—
You paid the price, you took the cost.

I shut you out when you reached in,
Not knowing where to even begin.
I didn’t deal with all the weight,
And let the damage complicate.

But I’ve been facing what I feared,
With help from those who see things clear.
The professionals, the work, the time—
They’ve helped me climb out from the grime.

I see life now through steadier eyes,
Past all the pain, beneath the lies.
I see the good, the things I missed—
The warmth in your touch, the love in your kiss.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man
Who stood up strong, who calmly ran
To meet you where you needed me—
I wish I’d fought more fearlessly.

Still, every flower that I gave
Was born from love I couldn’t save.
Thousands bloomed from something true—
My heart was always full of you.

And I would give my life, still now,
For you and him—I made that vow.
I wasn’t perfect, but I tried,
And though it hurt, I didn’t deny.

If time could turn, if hearts could mend,
If grace could let old wounds transcend—
Just know I’m here, and heart sincere.
With open hands and vision clear.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

So many colorful shards,
so many scattered books,
my Father left behind.

He connected the dots
with me, in space and time,
listening to the wind
when it was raining.

Absent and so close,
he used to say:
“Listen to what’s on the ground.
See what lifts us at night
when the birds go silent.”

He gave me more unrest,
he was the left hand
forced to write
with the right.

He believed in me
when the system
sent me away,
dismissed me.

He had hope
without medals,
standing steadfast
in the last row.

Now the body crumbles.
There is a memory
full of holes.
A counting echo—
he remembers,
he doesn’t,
it’s fine,
still hard
but his voice lives…

Time is blending
into a rusted chain
of events.
Tenderness,
resistance
to the falling apart
of departure.

He won’t come back.
He won’t recover.
The body is warm,
life doesn’t want to escape
the shrinking shell.

Sharp words cut helplessness.
Many nights still come
until the final return
to the embryonic state,
to point zero.

I am here,
into this deep night
being the witness to breath,
awake in the dark gentleness.

I made peace with my station eons ago,
Perched atop a mountain edge, overlooking a sea of my thoughts.
I sit on the ground while the tall grass sways,
Knees to my chest, drinking it all in,
Hair blowing softly by the winds of change.
A place made on my own,
Created from protection or fear, origin unclear.

Today's a little different however,
The temperature is warmer,
And I'm missing the slight rain that usually falls.

Maybe I’m out of my mind,
But I swear there’s a boat resting on my beach,
Worn and waiting with patient grace,
Rocking gently in the shallow reach,
As if to say, “You’ve sat here long enough,”
Inviting me to finally stand,
To leave this quiet mountain edge behind
And see where I might land.