My Dad Poem by James Casey

My Dad

Seems like every generation blames the one that came before
When all of their frustrations comes knocking on their door
I know that I'm a prisoner to all my dad held so dear
I know that I am a hostage to all his hopes and fears

Crumpled bits of paper filled with imperfect thought
Inconsistent, memories I'm afraid that's all I've got
I said I just don't see it He says it makes perfect sense
We learned to be in agreement in this present tense

Say it loud, say it clear you can listen as well as you hear
It's too late when we die to admit we don't see eye to eye
There never was a quarrel between the present and the past
We only sacrifice the future if there's bitterness that lasts

So don't yield to the fortunes you sometimes see as fate
It may have a new perspective at a very different date
Say it loud, say it clear you can listen as well as you hear
It's too late when we die to admit we don't see eye to eye

I was there that evening when my dad passed away
I didn't get to tell him all the things I had to say
I think I caught his spirit long before my career
I just wish that I had told him in his living years

Jim 1995


My Dad 1917-1995