The Clearest Image of a Man

I could think I'm disappointing
To a father who wanted it all:
A child to teach to ride a bike,
A boy to catch a ball.
I'll never be the active boy,
I can't run to get a hug.
See, I'm stuck in this, my wheelchair,
And strapped, to hold me snug.
Sometimes I wish for changes
To fulfill his every dream,
To be the boy he expected
When first he heard my scream.
But why don't I see that disappointment?
Why can't I see his broken heart?
He always talks of who we are,
Never of what we aren't.
It's not true, "Big boys never cry."
Though he says it from time to time,
Because I've seen the tears in his eyes
As he's wiped the tears from mine.
But never tears of pity,
Not tears for his lost dreams.
Tears to wash away my frustrations.
To calm my silent screams.
Last week he took me fishing
Though I'm too weak to hold the rod.
He asked me what I was wishing for.
"No wish, just thanking God."

The clearest image of a man,
The best a boy ever had,
I see in him, in action,
It's lived by my Perfect Dad.

By: Rich Clingman: June 2001