The Finish Line

Once upon an average morn
An average boy was born for the second time
Prone upon the altar there
He whispered up the prayer he’d kept hid inside

The vision came
He saw the odds
A hundred little gods on a gilded wheel
“These will vie to take your place, but Father,
by your grace I will never kneel”

And I saw you, upright and proud
And I saw you wave to the crowd
And I saw you laughing out loud at the
And I saw you brush away rocks
And I saw you pull up your socks
And I saw you out of the blocks
For the finish line

Darkness falls
The devil stirs
And as your vision blurs you start stumbling
The heart is weak
The will is gone
And every strong conviction comes tumbling down

Malice rains
The acid guile is sucking at your shoes while the mud is fresh
It floods the trail
It bleeds you dry
As every little god buys its pound of flesh

And I saw you licking your wounds
And I saw you weave your cocoons
And I saw you changing your tunes for the party line
And I saw you welsh on old debts
I saw you and your comrades bum cigarettes
And you hemmed and you hawed
And you hedged all your bets
Waiting for a sign

Let’s wash our hands as we throw little fits
Let’s all wash our hands as we curse hypocrites
We’re locked in the washroom turning old tricks
And joyless
And full of it

The vision came
He saw the odds
A hundred little gods on a gilded wheel
“These have tried to take your place, but Father,
by your grace I will never kneel
I will never kneel…”

Off in the distance
Bloodied but wise
As you squint with the light of the truth in your eyes

And I saw you
Both hands were raised
And I saw your lips move in praise
And I saw you steady your gaze
For the finish line

Every idol like dust
A word scattered them all
And I rose to my feet when you scaled the last wall
And I gasped
When I saw you fall
In his arms
At the finish line

Dear Dad,

Normally it would be acceptable to have some sort of entrance sentence into these letters but on this occasion, my mind is only flooded of memories of you. Dad…I miss you. There is no other way to say it. Since the moment you passed, so many things have happened and I am beginning to wonder how things will pan out over the next few years.

It’s fairly difficult for me to write this, right now, as I realize it’s just now hit me that you’ve been gone for three very long years. In fact, it was not until late in the day of the 29th that I realized it had been your anniversary mark for going Home. I suppose that’s a good thing, to be so busy we almost forget about events like this. Right? Well, I can tell myself that and hopefully I’ll believe it at some point.

There is a part of me that wants to scream right now from years of bottled up emotion and frustration at the events that happened. Dad, if only you were here right now, things would be so much different. I don’t think it’s selfish or weak of me to say that. We loved you. Your entire family loved and cherished you. I loved you. And now you are not here anymore. When others inquire about your age of passing, I tell them you were 51 years old. And it is always the same response: “Oh, so young!” and I have just recently realized how right they are.

I’m looking forward to seeing you and will write more soon.

See you soon, Superman.

Aaron Plaat


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