Within My Father’s Stride

 

Within My Father’s Stride

 

Each dawn,

I walk the path my father knew —

where morning mist reveals the world anew.

His shadow lingers softly by my side,

a whisper guiding me

within his stride.

 

Through fields once sown by calloused, faithful hands,

I feel the pulse of time

beneath the lands.

Each day’s a test — and oft I fall behind,

failing the hopes

he planted in my mind.

 

He spoke not loud —

yet truth in silence burned;

through humble deeds,

the greater lessons learned.

He met the storm, unbowed, yet full of grace,

and left the light of kindness

in his place.

 

Sometimes my faith, found wanting, drifts aside;

I falter, lost —

and stumble out of stride.

When seeds of envy choke the roots of day,

dark weeds of doubt

obscure my rightful way.

 

Yet when in awe I’m struck by all his work,

by dawns that shine

where unseen blessings lurk,

my compass realigns,

my mind resets —

the soul remembers,

and the heart forgets.

 

For still, I feel his guiding hand incline,

in all things good,

revealing love’s design.

His faith still breathes

within the world’s wide tide —

and I still walk,

within my father’s stride.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (Oct 2025)