Gone Beyond Our Reach Poem by Thomas Noel Smith

Gone Beyond Our Reach



Gone. Far gone
Beyond our reach, beyond our grasp
Committed to the seas of memory.
Childhood days and kitchen smells
Of bacon, fresh and sizzling
On Grandmother’s stove,
Biscuits buttered with warmth
And love.

Grandfather, in his rocking chair
White and wooden,
Rocking back and forth
Softly humming gentle tunes.

He, spectacled,
Holding me on his lap,
Close with warmth and comfort

Grandfather smoking his Camels
On concrete steps outside the house.
Grandmother wouldn’t allow
Smoking inside
Even for her man.
That special man that God made
In His own image, and called him
“Grandfather.”

Why can’t your voice touch my soul,
And whisper comfort
To my heart, Grandfather?
Surely not time or death
Can still the music of your voice.

Why do you sleep so soundly now,
Grandmother?
This is no place for you to be.

Can’t you not hold me once again
Grandfather?
In your comforting arms?

Grandmother….
Can I not once again
Hear your machine whirring,
Sewing clothes and dresses?

Oh, let me go home again
Just for just a day
To the house, my old home
Where laughter filled every room.
Is that so much to ask?

What a gentle giant of a man
You were, Grandfather
What a woman and a lady
You were, Grandmother.
As if the Creator
Searched the world
For two mortal vessels
For His boundless love…
And found them in you,
Grandfather and Grandmother.

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