A Stranger to Love

I look at you now,
The mighty oak
At the end of his season.

Recall you in your prime.
Running dirt roads for pleasure-
To fleet to follow-
Chin-up contests in the backyard,
You never lost-

Are not being spoon fed
In a hospital bed
And I know you, know I,
Would not want to be here,
To die In the company of caring strangers.

So I sit at your side,
In this chair that bites my back-
And your pride,
Still too great to be broken.

I see you in myself-
And wonder
What will my children see-

When it is I unable to rise;
Staring, unable to speak,
Still not knowing
What faith will be rewarded?

You wished for your children
To respect your strengths
And we do.

I wish mine to remember my weaknesses,
My passion for their moments
Of triumph and pain-

Not the trembling hand of a stranger
They wish they’d been able to love;
A father at the time of goodbye,
Unafraid and able to speak
Whatever their hearts might hold.

Poetry by SS Matthews