He stood like a mighty lion

An outback Hero, a Hercules,

A man among men.

A giant.

He was the sun. I bathed in his glow

and knew the coldness of space in the far reaches of the night.

He was a teacher

Not by words, but by deeds.

He showed me the way,

The path to manhood.

All that I am is a reflection of him.

in little ways

In the way I think.

In what I believe.

Underneath the education, polish, and public facade

He made me who I am.

He made me a man.

It was not easy,

Watching his decline.

Slowly. Slowly. Ever so slowly.

An empty husk, a shell was all that remained.

What could I say?

How to tell?

of my world,

my concerns,

small intricate details

computers school and friends

my life and my thoughts

did not seem to bring about

the old camaraderie in which we both dwelt

still he boasted of me.

The perfect son.

I was his assurance.

of his own worth

of his own decency

Oh God! If he knew!

The falsity, the depravity, the incarnation of all that is foul!

Such am I.

Where did the love of God go?

In the small hours?

With no coat?

With no heat?

In a ditch by the side of the road?

In a rocky culvert, with the echo of blood running down?

Like an old fashioned wind-up watch

Running down. Running down.

Colder, slower.

Until he was no more.

Where did the love of God go?

I was his son and now he is no more.

I am alone.

As was he

both while he lived

and while he died.

Where did the love of God go?

He expected not to die.

He rushed out

Uneaten supper still steaming

A pistol was found

two shots remained.

Blood.

Blood on the ground.

Blood on the culvert.

Blood on his shirt.

No bullets found.

Where did the love of God go?

He stood like a mighty lion.

The carrion eaters gathered

They hoped to pick him clean

To feast. To prey.

He was a giant.

But his race ran out in a ditch alone.

By the side of the road.

The frozen rain misting down

cars and trucks speeding by

no one there

no help to stop

the end came in a ditch alone.

A patriot

A serviceman

Missions across the globe.

No one knew or cared.

A funeral flag folded

in a distant hall where no one knows

a son's desolate watch

a life not spared.

A wasted life?

a life of violence and pain.

Life of blood misery and agony

As his wasted body

lived by the side of the road

As his wasted spirit

breathed its last, at last departing

Alone, by the side of the road.

God rest his soul

I beg You

I pray I may see him again

In a better place

In a better time

I pray he knew You.

Why O God? Why?

I was not there.

In the small hours.

In the ditch.

Alone. Alone.

I was not there

The perfect son

Come to see the old man die

I was late

Much too late

I was not there

Before the foundation of the earth.

I was not there

As the Spirit brooded

O'er the watery expanse

I was not there

Upon the separation of sky and sea.

Yet still I ask why.

Why O God? Why?

Help us O Father

Give me his strength

which is Your own.

He deserved better

A man among men

Good and kind,

in his own way.

He deserved better

than to die

in a ditch alone

No one to care

No one to answer

the cry of the forsaken

in a ditch alone.

No preacher to orate

no body to view

only son and daughter

a testimony given

a giant of a man

who lived and died

who laughed

and cried

A local legend

Yet not known

Always alone.

What did he think?

In the small hours

by the side of the road?

Did he know his ending was upon him?

Did he remember me? Did he believe in me?

I am alone.

My father is gone and I remain.

God help me

God help this world

My father is no more

and he had no one

in a ditch

by the side of the road

One year later

Wintertime first descending

freezing rain falls from the sky

icy sheen covering the remnants of past life

provides a cold embrace

a see through cloak covering us all

the night before Thanksgiving

damned holidays here again

as I remember

Oh yes, I remember

another place

a drainage ditch by the side of the road

catching land's dross in winter's storm

in another country also gripped by winter's first icy touch.

in another time, another place.

As I remember

a ditch by the side of the road

five feet deep

or six feet under;

its all the same

an icy grave

in plain sight

from the side of the road.

No one saw,

no one listened

no one was there

as trucks crawled up the hill

a watery sheen glistens over

a corpse by the side of the road

freezing rain invades bodily pours

as the heart and the mind

wind on down, down into the earth

cold wind moans

you hear the wind in the trees

branches cracking

cold and silent, forlorn and barren

It is winter

the land now dies

A last sight seen

in blackest night

by the side of the road

empty trees

empty land

As the soul departs

a man who is now not a man flees

Only a corpse remains.

It's one year later

my own soul in doubt

What have I done?

Have I been a faithful son?

carrying out your last wishes

seeking to know what you would have done?

Or a faithless vulture?

Gorging myself on a decomposed corpse?

A son who was not there

A father who couldn't get out

from his own heart-prison

from his own private hell

a man who could not forgive himself

in a ditch by the side of the road

Staving off the depth of my grief

As I feel winter's touch

my own marrow feeling

icy cold permeating

down into the roots of my self

Yet I'm in a house

fire blazing

comforter about my knees

can I really feel winter?

its not like it was then

one year ago

Thanksgiving eve

without a coat

lying in the bottom of a ditch

lying alone by the side of the road

Who can know?

who can understand?

pain rage grief and torment

guilt and fear

a sense of loss

a yawning abyss

he is gone

I cannot retrieve

Help me Lord

staunch this loss

Did he know I loved him?

Told him maybe one or twice

in an entire lifetime

but it was a boy's love for his father

for the hero who had disappeared long before the body died,

before the vision of a man.

As an adult

I never told him

he was loved for doing his best

he died not feeling

not knowing

not forgiving

Help me Lord

to be a better son

to be a better man

help me not to forget

his voice

his wisdom

his pain and grief

help me not to forget my own father

as the world seems to have done

life goes on

or it does not

Thief robber bloody fiend

it's a wonderful life

no testimony here

Help me Lord live up to a legend

to my father who is dead and gone

help me to live a legend

a legend the world conveniently forgot

the press of business

looking at the events of today

smugly satisfied

hoping in things that will not last

Fool!

Don't you know

your soul is required of you tonight

in a ditch by the side of the road?

as it was

one year ago?

I'll never go back

never go home

nothing for me there

no longer seeing

snow crested mountains

timber covered hills

silent river flowing by

green forest creeping

Nothing for me there

except a ditch by the side of the road

still there one year later

on the eve of his silent death

as wintertime descends.

"Happy Thanksgiving!"

a bitter taste in my mouth

the taste of ashes

what I should have done

what I should have been.

I know I should repent

from my anger and my grief

a rushing tide I cannot stem

I don't know how not to think

on this particular night

on the anniversary of a death

so like one year ago

I don't know how not to think

about dying completely alone

in a ditch by the side of the road

a ditch still there

waiting for me?

I am my father's son

as wintertime descends

no one there

alone

Alone.

winter's icy embrace

a body lying alone

one year later; by the side of the road