MY SON

psteik — Tue, 09 Dec 2025 01:40:02 +0000

I have a son, a little son, a boy completely fine.

Whenever I see him, it seems to me, all the world is mine.

But seldom, seldom do I see my child awake and bright.

I only see him when he sleeps. I only see him at night.

It’s early when I leave for work.

when I return it’s late.

Unknown to me is my own flesh.

Unknown is my child’s face

When I come home so wearily,

in the darkness after the day.

My pale wife exclaims to me,

“You should have seen our child play!”

I stand beside his little bed.

I look and try to hear.

In his dreams he moves his lips.

“Why isn’t daddy here?”

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HOW ABOUT SOME POETRY FOR A CHANGE?

psteik — Sat, 29 Nov 2025 04:34:23 +0000

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.