After listening to Father Son by Peter Gabriel
For Dad, for Bobby, for me
I am still trying. A fight still in my eye
That glistens through these tears, so
Salty, dripping onto collar’s stains;
A canyon could be carved in fibers.
Days like today feel like the moon
Has landed here bringing its dark
Shadow to drape me like the cape
Worn when I played the good villain;
Everyone laughed then at my quips
The chuckles were both savory and
Sweet like kettle corn popped at a fair.
We are apart now ... We are apart now.
I see you in my garden. Picking weeds
Feels like ridding the world of a disease
That consumed the soil of your flower
Until it could no longer reach out to the sun.
I see him too. I try to find the right weed
To pick that might let our flower bloom
In the forgiving sun that shines
On sinner and saint alike. The rain
That falls saturates dirt-caked skin
Could wash us for just a moment. But,
Though I haven’t found that weed yet,
I still tend the seed that my heart grows.