Your father is dying.
Do I know how you feel
Because my father is dead?
No, every dying is different,
And every father as well.
I know my own pain,
But I wear yours as mine,
Though words fail me.
If I could speak the right ones,
You and I would share
The miracle of death
As we have shared—
three times—
The miracle of life.
Yet I can only stand
In the shadows
And take your hand
Whenever you offer it.
this one is very beautiful, and speaks volumes about empathy. I've also felt like the last four lines of the poem says. A very despairing feeling that one can only stand and offer comfort as best as one can. but then again, that comfort can mean so much to the other person.
ReplyDelete