Special Occasions
No mere coincidence brings me here,
This mild April 5 Sunday afternoon.
You were born a hundred years ago, today, Dad,
In case you've forgotten.
And though you may have stopped counting, I have not.
Perhaps this celebration of your birthday
Is just my private way
Of keeping in touch with your living spirit,
Not letting the heart that sparked me into existence die,
From my forgetfulness or neglect.
Maybe there's something deeper, more profound
To these visits, on special occasions such as this,
That motivates me to pay you my abiding respect.
Could it be an ancestral obligation
That goes millenniums back, to Jacob, Isaac, Abraham?
04/05/09 - (2)
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