Richard Dixon

Father's Day

First Father’s Day since he passed away.
For him death saw no need for haste,
It stayed a while, enjoyed his taste.
I saw his raw decay.
It took his self respect.
I try to be brave as I look at his grave
And I drown an eye in the remembrance of my friend.

When the Collector of the Dead
Finally hushed the requiem of his suffering,
There were no famous last words, no Fierce Rage.
He just went quietly, broken by age.
Death collected its debt as it always does
And the shroud fitted neatly - as it always does.

Saints and killers,
With no need ...