An ode to a father

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In war they buried us,
for the honor of our mothers.
In peace they held us,
until we could walk.
They were friend and philosopher,
and a shoulder to cry on.
They gave us strength, direction
and made us real men like them.
So for a day, I pause and think,
and in thinking, am made afraid.
For I walk in the shadows of giants,
whose stature I can never reach.
I can only look upon them and aspire,
that one day I will be a father too.
And maybe I will be just as much a God
for my son, as my father was to me.

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