<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=449158" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Blackthorn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The blackthorn was his father's,<br>a piece of Ireland<br>that the old man could still get his hands around<br>even as his hands grew weak,<br>refused to hold. My father<br>never knew Ireland;<br>when he gripped the walking stick<br>it was something else he was holding on to.<br>I watched my father<br>get old; he would stare at his hand<br>and open and close his fist,<br>try to fight the arthritis.<br>By then he had lost the stick,<br>and he could have used it<br>to work his grip, to beat<br>at the hard knot that was tying him up.<br>When he died he was laid in the ground<br>only a few feet from his father,<br>while in Ireland the sturdy blackthorns<br>were defying that sad land<br>and bursting with white blossoms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Anonymous submission.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Louis+McKee">Louis McKee</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=449158" data-title="The Blackthorn de Louis McKee" data-description="The blackthorn was his father's, a piece of Ireland that the old man could still get his hands around even as his hands grew weak, refused to hold. My father never knew Ireland; when he gripped the walking stick it was something else he was holdin..."></div> </div> </div>

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