Thoughts after seeing my dad fresh from open heart surgery
My Dad’s Heart
He laid alone on the sterile table
Those strong hands that carried me
And tucked me into bed at night
That folded in prayer
And fixed the broken things
now filled with tubes
weakened and tired
His ruddy face yellow and pale
The smile faded into a quiet stare
Those twinkling eyes barely able to open.
They said they fixed his heart
But what they don’t know
Is that heart never needed a thing
Because in all my life
No man has had a better heart
One that holds the Lord in high esteem
And cares about those things so many overlook
That holds more passion in these latter years
Than it did in its youthful days of protests and social turmoil
A heart which beats in its steady way
Leading those around him
Full of life.
And in these days that follow
The surgeon’s knife
It will repair and grow stronger
Never the same
Except for the soul that beats behind
The flesh and bones of mortal energy
Which does not fade or change
As the years go by.
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