once young and lost,
i stood in the shadow of my father
as the sun gently set yonder,
and felt his greatness slowly blend
into the silence of the dusk.
the son is the measure of the man,
i learned soon enough.
he of humble earth
has borne his mark in his days, his ways.
and with awe and a young heart
i embraced his love for life amidst his chaotic disorder,
his lust for living, a joyful journey
of unexpected twists and turns.
i looked back then, keenly, at the road he travelled
so i could, and must run parallel
but reluctantly, then with surrender
still let his light cast away my demons.
and yet, i have time again reached out
for those strong wise hands.
and his face, worn and weary
i often curse and then gather with my hands.
and somewhere down all of this
i pause in silence... and marvel
how i have become my man,
struggling with his love, his vows and vices,
his victories unnamed, his sadness sublime and deep,
the measure of his man,
the sanctity of his name.
and i am completely forgiving of him
as i pray he is, and will, be of me
when our roads merge together
in the last leg of this trip.
i long to embrace you
and stand in your towering shadow
and claim your name
as mine.