The Lump

I stood at your grave with a lump in my throat
hurting too much to cry, and couldn't believe
you were gone, but seven men fired twenty-
one salutes, then someone played taps.

I returned today and found new grass
breaking through the crust of an old earth.
From the blackened soil of a still fresh grave
life sprang forth as you reached up to me.

And I longed for the warmth of your embrace,
but the lump remained. I’ve learned it’s a living
thing growing like a tumor with a pulse--
beating in rhythm, with my own broken heart.

I miss you Dad.

-Cameron Dockery