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Dear Readers,
This piece that I hope will serve as the postscript to my second book, tenatively entitled Between Fathers and Sons was published by www.examiner.com under the title "Poetical Reflections In Memory of My Father, Dr. Albert I. Busch. Google that title and several direct links will pop up. I would appreciate any written response you may have by posting a brief comment at the end of the examiner piece. See my other two pieces also published by examiner.com: "Losing Ben" and "Kissing Dad's Nose".
Sincerely,
Alan D. Busch
"Reflections In Memory of My Father, Dr. Albert I. Busch" Sturdy Tree of Life, its trunk of broad girth,
A man of strong body, mind and soul,
my father’s real strength lay in his emotional tenderness.
His nature exposed as fiction the notion that “real” men mustn’t cry.
My father could be a tough guy when he needed to be,
but his true nature was that of a gentle soul.
This is the dad I cherish and miss more.
Profusion of leaves from peaking buds bring …
We were blessed when G-d renewed him each day.
His was a favored soul.
His tomorrows became less certain
as yesterday’s clouds caught up with us.
Resplendency burst forth come season’s spring…
A blossom makes us smile.
Its perfumed scent renews our flagging hope.
My father smiled when others frowned.
Turn back to reflections of innocent mirth.
Just as a boy needs his father,
so I cherish the memories of my youthful dad
and keep them as leaves in a sacred book.
Its pages are tear-stained and tissues serve as bookmarks.
I gazed at his beacon once time ago brightly fierce.
The Creator brings on evenings gradually
Just as He causes the brilliance of a man’s smile to fade
as the sunset of his days approaches.
Steadfastly towers o’er broad horizons seen.
His shoulders slumped, his back bent, his height diminished …
his gaze he could no longer cast as far as he had once done.
Fading verdancy from which I needst myself wean,
I mustn’t forget my father’s passing was not tragic,
but appropriately sad.
I am grateful he merited to become a “zakein,”
a man of advanced years and wisdom.
Dusk dimmed his light when fog it once pierced.
The bright, white light of youth became the colorful panoply
at which older, wiser eyes marvel.
Violently tosses this storm a gale,
He lived a healthy life until the very end.
The experience of his illness left us adrift in unfamiliar waters,
but the winds guided us to the end of his horizon.
Cleave tightly to thine anchor’s chain.
My father’s life was in His hands in Whom I had placed my trust
for no man governs in these matters.
Lest the tumultuous sea's calmness feign,
Entrusting man leads to despair and loss of hope.
Steer ship’s rudder toward windward sail.
Let thy trust reside alone in Him from Whom the wind blows.
Gaze the firmament for His infinity unknown
I acknowledge His Majesty by searching His Creation.
Wellness and illness are His province alone.
Accept thy portion with gladness by night and by day.
I am thankful for his eighty-seven years.
May he merit his portion in the world to come.
May faith’s compass guide thee, reap that thou may,
I remain strong because I know before Whom I stand.
Content thyself with what he hath sown.
He left the world a better place than how he first found it.
Alan D. Busch
alandbusch@aol.com
