A CHILD'S GRIP

 

There is a child's fist,

Inside of me.

Clutching tight to what my dad said,

When I was three.

 

I remember that night,

My mom walked out the door.

To leave my dad for good,

And forevermore.

 

I was very sad,

That she was gone.

My dad turned to me,

And said "Son,

You're a big boy now,

And big boys don't cry.

So wipe that tear,

From your eye."

 

I carried that message,

Throughout my life.

Through all the pain.

Through all the strife.

 

Tears did not fall,

So easily.

Stuffing all the hurt,

Deep inside of me.

 

A child's fist,

Grips fiercely tight.

To a wrong,

That I must right.