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North American Dreaming: Late Night Writer’s Lamentation

In this powerful lamentation William Burkholder mourns the death of his father.

You passed away last summer; I spoke at your funeral and cried. I loved you, I respected you and in the end, we both came to terms with the past. I knew that you did what you knew how to do; I have learned that I could not expect that which you were not able to give for whatever reason.

There were many years where I was angry, bitter, taking out my frustrations on the world, and myself, School of hard knocks? I got a full scholarship man. A self-inflicted education.

The proverbial bolt of lightening that comes along and knocks you on your ass; I was hit several times before I learned not to play in the rain. Wisdom, knowledge, humility, reigns pulled in on the ego. All the above and more, learning to just be happy, not basing your life on others opinions, others judgments, individuality not to be confused with rebellion or idiocy.

Yes, this is not a poem - ramblings of a late night writer. Lamentations from a mourning Son for his Father; still asking questions, wanting more time, proud to be the product of his raising and insight and yes even anger, lessons well learned Dad.

Still learning, still wanting to know all there is and endeavoring to do so with each breath, I am my Father's son in many ways but I am also my own man. What I gleaned from you was integrity, honesty, solid work ethics, and yes a love for life, thanks Pop, love ya.


Do visit Troubadour21 magazine with which Bill is associated www.troubadour21.com


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