The Thinking Poet - By The Condo

By The Condo

I drove by the condo 
Where we lived when you were born.
The trees we planted in the back
Are still there, unrecognizably tall.
But you aren't there.
The west wind still whispers
Its lullaby in the eves,
Just as it did when I was
Singing you to sleep.
But you aren't there.
The train came by,
The one I would scoop you up
In my arms and run to watch
As it squealed through the crossing.
But you aren't there.
The park across the street still beckons,
Bare branches reaching 
Through the December chill
With the enticement
Of swings and trails.
But you aren't there.
Fathers long for their boys
Like a part of their own bodies
Has been taken away,
A wound that draws together,
But never truly heals.
I drive away from the sweet pain of memory
And I find myself saying that,
If you were really gone,
I would be wrecked.

1. Who do you feel this way about? How would you describe your feelings? Do they know you feel that way?
2. Have you had the experience of going to a place you used to live, only to find that the life you had there is gone? Describe your experience.
3. What wound do you have that “draws together/But never heals”? What would bring healing?

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