To Dad on Father's Day

As I get older my memories fade,
So I read my old diaries to remember the truth
Of the places I come from, the path that we've made
As a family, and the glittering trails of my youth.

As I grew up- I thought myself a black sheep
But I realize of late I've been blind to the fact
That our family's strong love is so cutting and deep
That despite any differences we are bound by our past.

And our past? It is glory-full, lovely and free
The children we have been and the children we shall be,
In the country, with cat-tails, with peacocks and creeksides,
With each other, in mornings, waving motorcycle goodbyes.

Toward the mountains we roamed- as a family we went
To the golden true pine hills to fulfill our small passions,
And though only the smallest of bills could be spent
With love and true kindness we have built up a mansion.

A true home, with windows that shine with delight
Halls that echo with laughter and children and song
With floors made of gratitude and kindness so bright
Such a dwelling outlives us, for its walls are so strong.

There are poor souls so bleak with the places they grew,
We are blessed, we are lucky, we are of the rare few-
To have known such a kind life, to have known of such love
We should thank every moment we live for our blood.

And a father's love is so needed, so strong
To give children the backbone they need to go on
To face the unknown, new people, to face fear
A father's love is something so essential and dear.

Dear Dad, in this home that lives on in our hearts
You have helped to create lifetimes of service and art
You have taught of compassion to strangers on the road
A great joy that will change countless lives as we go.

A love that's infectious and wise beyond books,
For creation and all people- not judged by their looks
Not judged by their actions or hearts or their homes
Just loved because loving gives the most joy we know.

As I get older my memory fades,
Some times I have remembered the difficult days,
Some days I have only remembered with pain,
But lately I just know that I'd do it all again.

And last night as I stood in a room full of allure,
Of friends and "success", and beauty, and show,
I felt in my heart something precious and pure
Something only I knew about, and only I know.

For I can't tell if the others around me feel too
An absolute love of their own lives and history
Of EVERY THING that's happpened, so thankful and true
That every breath we take is a grateful grace of mystery.

And no attainment on earth could ever make me undo
All this love that I've known, all these hungry roots we grew
Or our histories together as they weave into tomorrow
With colours that we give, receive, share, create, and borrow.