In Memory’s Embrace

When I was but a tender age of eight,
A shadow cloaked my world in sudden night,
My father’s love, a beacon strong and great,
Extinguished, leaving echoes of his light.

His memory, a whisper in my ear,
A guiding star through life’s uncharted seas,
Yet losing him was pain so sharp, so near,
A wound that time would never fully ease.

I longed to join him, time and time again,
To close my eyes and feel his warm embrace,
But life went on, with joy and grief and pain,
And I, alone, continued in this race.

Through darkened days, through trials hard and foul,
I faced a world that often seemed unjust,
Assaulted by the shadows, feeling small,
Yet in my heart, his wisdom was my trust.

I’d sit and play his favorite songs, just so,
To feel his presence, close and real once more,
Afraid that as the years would ebb and flow,
His face, his voice, would fade and be no more.

But age has brought a clarity, a grace,
His lessons etched in every act I take,
He taught me cooking’s magic and its place,
A way to heal, to love, to mend, to make.

In every dish, I feel his gentle hand,
In every meal, his spirit comes alive,
Through every challenge, firm I take my stand,
For from his strength, my own resolve derives.

Independent, strong, and full of fire,
He taught me skills to navigate life’s sea,
To channel hurt into a heart’s desire,
To find my peace, my joy, my destiny.

Though gone, he lives within my every breath,
A memory that time cannot erase,
In kitchen’s warmth, I honor him in death,
His love, his life, my everlasting grace.

In the tempest of my mind’s fierce gale,
Where shadows loomed and doubts assailed,
I walked a path, oft deemed too frail,
By voices harsh, where hope had paled.

They spoke in tongues of bleak defeat,
In classrooms cold, their words did chime,
“You’ll mount to naught,” their chorus bleak,
But still, I climbed beyond their rhyme.

With every whisper, sharp as thorns,
That I’m the storm, the child awry,
I bore the brunt of scornful scorns,
Yet never let my dreams go by.

Bipolar’s swing, depression’s night,
The borderline’s uncertain dance,
Schizophrenic shadows, lacking light,
Each battle joined, I did advance.

They could not see the strength within,
The silent wars I fought unseen,
Against the tempest, fierce and grim,
I rose above what might have been.

And now, behold this cap and gown,
The first in line, my family’s pride,
A bachelors’ earned, my scepter and crown,
In knowledge’s light, I now abide.

So let them gaze with widened eyes,
At who I’ve become, against all odds,
A testament to the unyielding skies,
That bend and break at the hands of gods.

The problem child, the one “so different,”
Has sculpted triumph from the pain,
With every step, more proficient,
In spite of rain, I’ve grown through rain.

Now let the past’s cruel judgments rest,
For I’m still standing, tall and true,
A life reclaimed, a heart unbowed,
A brilliant light, forever new.

The whispers fade, the voices dim,
No longer shall their echoes chide,
For I am more than they foresaw,
A phoenix rising, in full stride.