poem

 Anger StoneThe counselor assigned my sonThe task of drawing what he wasFeeling on a rounded gray stoneMy boy filled it with indecipherableOrange etchings like an ancient Aztec relicI tried to translate his glyphsInto a rune that unlockedThe loving gentleness of his heartI held it to my ear like a shellAnd I could hear the ghostly Bellow of my stern thwarted GrandpaIt smelled like the emptinessOf my dad ’s old closet I placed it against the tip of my tongueOnly to taste hints of the hardFeast that could be the rest of my life I held it close before my eyesHoping to find the faint outlineOf the shape my son will somedaySculpt it into, as soon as he learns howI ’d do anything to help himBut even my strongest teethHave already been cracked  9/27/22

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - September 27, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs