The deep inner workings of a beggar's mind


Your face is like poison,

It kills me within.

Your death burns like fire,

But I’ll see you again.

Two years have passed,

And much has changed.

Haunted by the past,

My head hangs low in shame.

“Why wasn’t I there?”

“Why didn’t I care?”

But hindsight came much too late.

By the time it sunk in

I could do nothing then

But hold you ’til you slipped away.

You laid there in bed,

With no words that you said,

But my pain spoke as loud as the rain.

So cold…so numb

Not old…too young

Just a shell of skin and bone.

As my tears ran like streams,

The room filled with mom’s screams

And my father finally found his way home.

I love you, dad.

R.I.P. – Terry Austin Morgan (5/22/46 – 11/11/07)

3 responses

  1. Kirby

    My dad passed away in March of ’07. I wrote some poems about it too.

    November 12, 2009 at 14:11

  2. *

    Was thinking and praying for you on the 11th.
    “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you.”
    Isaiah 43:2
    And because of that promise we can say-
    “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”
    I Cor. 1:3-4

    November 16, 2009 at 03:01

  3. ((HUGS)) I love you, my brother. You should never hang your head in shame. It still hurts, I know, but look to the future that God has for you and He will lift your tired spirit. ((HUGS))

    November 20, 2009 at 11:59

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