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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

Martin

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Martin (dedicated to my friend whose love for his brother, whom he never knew, is quite extraordinary.)

I stretch out my arms for Martin …
If I could, I’d have dug his well deeper,
If for me he was never meant to be,
I remain alas my brother’s keeper.

Why didst Thou my mother’s heart break?
For Martin, until her last day, she grieved
Burdened by guilt she should not have borne
Unto Thee did she steadfastly cleave.

Until this everyday, these years later,
In prayer do I call Thee in dread.
I can’t help but wonder why Martin …
Wouldst Thou had taken me instead.

I writhe in my anguish to fathom,
Thy ways in the wee hours I’ve sought
Why didst Thou decree so severely?
The pain his young death hath wrought.

Alan D. Busch
10/2/09

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Fingers, A Poem for Kimberly, My Daughter May She Always Be Happy ...

My heart leapt for you long had I waited,
for a gift of divine perfection would you mine be.
In awe was I of your tapered fingers I marveled,
when mine eyes first beheld thee.

Side by side we stood rinsing dishes,
Our moment of you and me always I’ll cherish.
Mom fashioned twin braids for you with blue ribbon
hold on tightly lest our memories perish.

A butterfly like none other fluttered by me
Sparkling pixies dancing on toe shoe,
Tiny ballerinas with balloons and candy
Nary an eye saw through tear drops of dew.

I gasped when she curtsied, my breath nearly stolen.
Such precious moments number so few
My heart did break though mend it did quickly.
I shan’t ever grow weary of loving you.

Your delicate grace will ever me inspire,
ere mine eyes your shadow yet lingers ...
of loving you I shall never tire.
Are there any lovelier than my butterfly's fingers?

Alan D. Busch
9/9/09

ben bresky poetry submission.rtf

For Zac, My Younger Son and Youngest Child

My memory of you when a boy I did teach,
of a human being I pray I helped you become.
Let your life reflect the divine spark in each
when the banality of others does us benumb.

Teary-eyed sighs on cloudy days recall,
a boy whose freckled face crestfallen became ...
for plucking orange lilies off sun craning stems,
whose countenance shone neither remorse nor shame.

A lesson he'll recall from that day hence …
may many more days be his to see.
Respect life all, from great to small,
guard this lesson's value pristine,
Tend your garden a school it becomes
when tomorrow's children will have lillies seen.

Alan D. Busch
7/3/09

For Zac

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For Zac, My Younger Son and Youngest Child

“May He Become … ”

A father’s son he prays be (come)

a person …

if, when and where there may be none.

I see him then when he was, but now is,

No longer a boy …

but in process, a man

may he become.

Orange lilies along the way

I scolded him, once long ago.

his freckled face crestfallen.

Boyishly plucked the flowers from their stems.

We laugh now at that memory, but its lesson

he retains …

respect life, son, its beauty.

Now at twenty, his becoming is but another beginning.

Return now and again to the ‘abc(s)’

A good man lives with and accepts responsibility.

Befriend them who have few if any.

Respect a woman for she is another man’s daughter, as your sister is mine.

Learn from every teacher, especially those you may dislike.

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My father is very ill in a hospital. His son reflects ...


Sturdy Tree of Life, its trunk of broad girth,

Profusion of leaves anew from peaking buds bring ...

Resplendency burst forth come season’s spring ...

Turn back to reflections of innocent mirth.

I gaze at his beacon once time ago brightly fierce.

Strength his tower o’er broad horizons seen.

Fade youthful verdancy from needst thou wean,

dusk dims its light where once the fog did pierce.

Violently tosses this storm a gale,

Cleave tightly to thine anchor’s chain.

Lest the tumultuous sea in calmness feign,

steer ship’s rudder toward windward sail.

Gaze the firmament for His infinity unknown,

accept thy portion with gladness by night and by day.

May faith’s compass guide thee, reap that thou may,

content thyself with what thou hast already sewn.


Alan D. Busch

July 2008