Dreams of My Father

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

My heart belies the many seasons of my life. Each passing interlude a symphony of sounds and of colors, of memories and emotions, and of reflections of each moment of a lifetime shared and a lifetime lived.

MI HIJO (MY SON)

(Dreams of My Father)

By Al Garcia

 

My heart belies the many seasons of my life.  Each passing interlude a symphony of sounds and of colors, of memories and emotions, and of reflections of each moment of a lifetime shared and a lifetime lived.  My life still swaying to the rhythm of my father’s heart, and still listening to the echoes of my father’s dreams. 

I am the dream that came to be.  I am the promised hope that tears and sweat and pain helped make.  I am the living legacy of my father’s dreams.  This I know because when he held my hand, I felt I was a part of his heart and soul.I was safe.  I was loved.  I was a part of something bigger.  Something better.  Something special. 

It is the dreams of my father that lives in me, and that nurtures the passion, the hunger and the rage within me to strive and to thrive. 

It is the dreams of my father that inspire and stir the emotions and the sentiments that keep alive the silenced heart and the quieted voice that once guided me, lectured me.  I remember his unspoken words and undeclared regrets of his unfulfilled, unrealized and unattained dreams that eluded the days of his life.  And I understood, without the utterance of a word, that his unlived dreams were left behind for me to keep alive. 

I am the dreams of my father.

I am the ray of hope that made him strong enough to endure the passion of his convictions. despite the obstacles and hurdles that he encountered along his long and demanding days.  And I am but a stepping stone in the unpaved path that I continue to walk, guided only by his legacy of strength, passion and faith.

I still remember holding my father’s hand, and I felt safe, loved and a part of something bigger, something better, something special.  I now know why I felt that way.  I was a part of the dreams of my father – dreams that will never die.

How strange it feels to have been a part of a dream that came to life.  How strange to look back and recall the days that were shared, and the days that have gone.  How strange to be a son, orphaned and deceived by time, living on borrowed dreams and fading memories.


Submitted: May 23, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A.Garcia. All rights reserved.

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