I wrote this poem after my father was diagnosed with cancer for the fourth time, the cancer that took his life.
CANCER
What can you say when your father is dying? Is there any way words can express?
The foundation of life that you’ve had from first breath will be gone, leaving vast emptiness.
I could list things he’s done, that to me seemed enormous, though outsiders might not be impressed.
Words he spoke, acts he’s done, that showed who he was. Sing to me that my family was blessed.
Though his time here on Earth will soon come to an end, he will always be close to my heart.
I’ve seen his smile, felt his hand, as he’d guide me though life. I know he’s done more than his part.
As I write, he suffers from an agonizing disease. He suffers in silence and does not speak of pain.
He’s seeking the best for those that he loves, and our pity would not be a gain.
A grimace escapes as he moves only slightly, while watching my mother at work.
He smiles to know that his pain wasn’t seen, then he spies the place where I lurk.
His eyes say, “keep quiet, it’s not that bad.” But his voice speaks low, man to man.
I pray every day that this pain you won’t know; I’m praying just as hard as I can.
