Where is the truth that he lived
What was the song he sang for me,
Where is the man that I loved,
Where is the voice that
Where are the arms that
Where is the smile that gave me life?
Where is the man that I loved,
He was my father; he was my mother.Where is the angel striding to and fro,
Long, long ago in a make-believe land.
I was his friend, and he was my brother,
Far, far away in a castle in the sand.
Where are the hands that guided me?
Where is the man that I loved,
Where is the one who taught me always to pray,
where is the laughter in his eyes?
Where is the man that I loved,
He was my father; he was my mother.
Long, long ago in a make-believe land.
I was his friend, and he was my brother,
Far, far away in a castle in the sand.
I know Frank, but I haven't seen or heard from him since the last time I saw him in Yuma, AZ, in the mid 80's when he was working as a truck driver and passing through town. I vaguely recall you. And, of course, I know your sister Dorothy. We were the lucky ones, I guess. We continued our spiritual journey and, now, we are where we are, today, having encountered a spiritual Hidden Gift. Your poem about Frank struck me as unusual, at first. I did not understand it. My feelings are different. My feelings back then were different, as well. But I can understand how you would have felt that way. Today, I'm sure you think differently. We are all wiser. Frank used to yell at me and humiliate me whenever he thought it was appropriate. Maybe, he did it to try to get me to be perfect. Or maybe he was trying to get me to just leave. I placed him on a pedestal. I wish I had not. I was young and naïve.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing that... You are right. We live and grow, and the meanings of things change with time. We may never know how much others have truly affected us while yet bound to this nether world... and how we have affected others, too.
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