poem

 ShadeSome dads cast a giant shadowWhile others just leave an big empty spaceThat a boy spends most of his life Figuring out ways to fillHe tries on sadness for whileBut tears never last for longIn such dry inhospitable ground.Besides, the man of the house mustn ' t cryEven when the man is just a boy. So he tries on angerAnd it suits him well.He makes an ax and goes In search of forests to fell.It ’s hard work laboring underThe searing gnaw of an acid sunThat burns his pale skinSo many times it thickensInto a scarred bronze hideThat doesn ' t hurt anymore No matter how bright it shines.And because it doesn ' t hurt he keeps cutting And the dull thud of metal against woodEchoes rhythmically like a ticking clockAnd time passes and the boy becomes man.He begins to feel strong.Cords of cut wood slowlyFill the old emptiness behind him.One day, wiping the sweat from his brow,He notices the large dark shadowUnfurling away from his formAnd the old sadness returns.He sees at last that Shadows are also shadeTo shield us from summer furnace And that we can ’t seek respite in the one we cast,That someone else must protect usWhen we ’re young.And so the man stops cutting.He puts down his ax.He takes off angerAnd sits for a moment on a stumpWhile the sun bakes the back of his neck.And then he sees him, his son,Just a small boy On the very edge of known darkness —Half pale in his shadowHalf shining in the sun,Now ready for the brunt of br...

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - September 3, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs