The place we purchased a plot,
Is where we have this picnic.
Our son runs and plays,
Where someday he will mourn.
He wants to go to the play area,
While we look forward to lunch,
“Please, Daddy, please, let me play!”
I rise and walk half way there,
He will be safe on his own from here.
I smile and tell him to be safe,
He has a fleeting smile and turns to run.
I turn back to the plot waiting for my ashes,
A chill blows through me as I realise.
This is how it will be,
This is how it must be.
I must go and he must stay,
I will not be able to protect him,
I will not be able to share in his joys,
I will not be there to comfort him,
When he has this same moment with his son.
As I walk farther from him and closer to this place,
I want to turn and run to him,
Taking him in my arms again.
He would not understand this,
He should not yet understand this.
I return to this place where in time I will dwell,
And hope beyond hope that he is safe, happy and well.
If only I can forget a bit longer,
That I must go and he must stay.
Gerald Lee Jordan
21 Dec 2012
Hanmer Springs NZ