Diana Leavengood Blanco
A Song For Charlie - Poem by Diana Leavengood Blanco
His birth was unremarkable. At first, he seemed the same.
But he could run just like the wind, so racing was his game.
He got his name from mom and dad; from grandpa speed and heart.
Armed with these gifts, Tanyosho Dawn should tear the world apart.
But no one told him that some gifts can curse as well as bless.
And no one told him hearts too great put bodies to the test.
As years passed by, he fought his fights, and even won a few.
The battles all were long and hard, with no chance to renew.
His body grew a weary from the running with its might.
He had to learn to run through pain, for that became his plight.
He raced for many owners silks. He raced for many men.
He raced for what seemed many years, then he came home again.
He thought the time has come to rest. He thought he'd waged his wars.
He thought the battles, now, were done, but, still, we asked for more.
We did not heed his whisperings. We could not feel his pain.
We tried to patch up all the wounds-asked him to run again.
He could have stopped, refused, and sulked. He could have told us, "No."
But he did not...his great, good heart dealt him the final blow.
He ran on heart and heart alone. His body just gave way.
His body could not match his heart. We put him down today.
Until the end, his gracious soul shone from his clear, kind eyes.
He ate a carrot from my hand, then I told him goodbye.
I stood with him upon the hill, wind ruffling through his mane.
His body slumped...The specter drug had ended all his pain. I knelt beside him on the ground until his soul had gone.
I cried...for it was not to this Tanyosho Dawn was born.
We had such hopes for better things, but dreams confounded sight.
Our dreams gave hope where there was none, and lost...not won...the fight. If I could do it all again, so different would it be...
Death - held at bay - my Charlie - boy would still be here with me.
Comments about A Song For Charlie by Diana Leavengood Blanco
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You