R.E.Moody*

Poetry by R.E. Moody

Poetry is the doorway
through the soul...
Without the gift, you die
inside.
Open the door.


A Father Laments

I'm a good father. That's what I said.
I'm a great dad, not what they said.
I love my children. I regret not being with them,
but I'm not a dead beat dad.
My boys were babies when life turned bad
I lost my family, my job and everything I had.
I wish that I could turn back the hands of time,
But I'm not a dead beat dad.
My dreams to play baseball all the grand ideas I had
shadow my thoughts, my dreams go to bed.
I'm a good father, not a deadbeat dad.
My sons are men today. Today my son walked up to me and said
"Dad, do you know who I am?"
I was a stranger, calmly he pulled out his wallet and showed me his I.D.
and I saw my son.
He gave me a hug and a kiss, and said, "I love you, dad. Don't be a stranger!" As I
cleared the tears from my eyes, he walked away.
I felt alive. I felt alive.
I'm not too bad, I'm not a deadbeat dad.
Today I thought I saw my son but unless he walked up to me and said
"Hey Dad"
I would not know him from anyone on the streets,
but at least I know he knows me.
One day we wull be father and son.
Once upon a dream.

*Roark E. Moody is 58 years old and has been a StreetWise vendor since January 1, 2001. "I'm one of the lucky people. I know what I want to do because I know my purpose in life." And this purpose, Roark said, over the din at the Cultural Center where we sat down to chat, was to make the world a richer place. "Writing poetry gives latitude, it allows you to do things with language that you may not be able to do otherwise." Roark's poetry has appeared in Streetwise several times, including most recently the September 17, 2008 edition. He can be found at his post beside the Cultural Center on Randolph and Michigan, Monday to Friday from 11 AM to 7PM. Now go buy the paper!