Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2014
I bury my son
the rain falls
cold wet and miserable
I reach for something to say
but I am dumb
struck so
by your demise

We dressed you
in your sweatshirt
and trainers
the clothes had your
smell about them
I waited for you to speak
β€œHi Dad I'm home”
but there was only silence

I wake in the middle
of the night
with thoughts of you
and what we might do
that day
then a wave
of remembrance
sweeps over me
and I remember
you are dead

A handful of soil
is my final act
which spatters
where your face
should be
the rain quickly
turning it to mud

I turn away
and see you
in the distance
watching us
as salted rain
runs off my nose

I want to cry out
your name
and ask why?
why and how
we came to this
a father laying his son
to rest
as the world
carries on with
it's own business
oblivious to our
grief
Goodbye my son
I may forgive God
in time
A long, long time
David I Phillips
Written by
David I Phillips  York
(York)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems