When Fathers Weep At Graves

I see them weep
The fathers at the stones
Taking off the brave armour
Forced to wear in the workplace
Clearing away the debris
With gentle fingers
Inhaling the sorrow
Diminished by anguish
Their hearts desiring what they cannot have
To walk hand in hand
With children no longer held
To all the fathers who leave a part
Of their hearts at the stones
May breezes underneath trees of time
Ease their pain
As they receive healing tears
. . . the gift the children give.

~ Alice J. Wisler

I Went to Your Grave Today

Here's a poem I wrote in 1998 in memory of Daniel. I placed it
in my first cookbook, Slices of Sunlight.

I went to your grave today,
taking daisies and roses.
I ate lemon poppy seed bread
and felt the warmth of the sun
As I sat on a yellow cloth
watching the children run.

I went to your grave today
and felt the soft wind whistle
and felt the grass tickle my bare feet
and heard the baby cry,
the older ones laugh---
and then I listened for you.

I could not see your face
with its bright blue eyes
Or feel your head on my shoulder.
I could not touch your hands,
for that body is no longer you,
covered in the grave.

It was the brilliance of your soul
that flooded my senses---
it was the radiance of knowing what you are,
And what you have become
That energized my heart
when I went to your grave today.

~ Alice J. Wisler