Petronella Steevensz

Dad

every step I take
carries me away
from the day you died

every step I take
hurts my soul feet
like those Sundays shoes
of days long gone
that hurt with every step
on our way to church
your hand consolingly holding mine
 
those shoes were nothing
compared to this unyielding finality
with life pushing me to go on
to run and dance and walk
in painful shoes that will not yield
and you
not around
to hold my hand this time

 

All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Petronella Steevensz.
Published on e-Stories.org on 07/04/2005.

 

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