A Passing Thought

There are some days I remember him more than others.  His wisdom would have been much needed in my life right about now.  Maybe he could have told me which opportunities to seek out.  Maybe he could have told me how to handle certain relationships.  Maybe he could have told me an old war story or a tale from growin' up on the farm.  Maybe he could have just sit with me in silence while we reminisced on how life used to be and how mind-blowing God's sovereignty is.  Maybe we would have went on a drive just to take in the scenery of beautiful West Virginia lands.  Maybe he would joke with me about the holes in my jeans while I tried to argue that they were comfy and "in style".  Maybe he would have held my hand as we prayed over our tomato and mayonnaise sandwiches.  Maybe I could tell him just how much I've missed him...

I wrote this poem last semester in my poetry class and I thought I would share it with you... 

The Passing

It was eating him -

the disease that is -

his kidneys and heart,

now emerging enemies.

                                              

His body, too feeble to bear the weight

of anything close to destruction,

kept him fixed in his favored blue rocker

back and forth, back and forth.

My visits to and from school

developed into yearned-for meetings;

his delight brought me back-

time and time again.

Kneeling to greet his blue eyes

he took my hand, yet

with a pause,

my nerves arose with each silence.

His weary, shaking hand raised my own,

cold lips from wars past

met my lively, soft hand with grace,

passing the baton.

You’re my girl

and you’re gonna do somethin’ great.

-Elizabeth