for papa, june 2011

same moon
same hot wind blown over the yard
horses dignified against the fence
mourning the same one I do
same exhaustion comes over us all,
drained as love emerges in concentrate

same words
inaccurate, trite, insufficient
but true
same sorrow pressed into hollows
waiting for a dark
same expectation
unbent by logic

what I know doesn’t release my hope from its hinges
my door is opened up
my heart is hunting your arrival
in the woodlands and hallways
child’s ghost
doctor’s miraculous mistake
I long for you against all truth

and its only one thing that’s different

for all this ritual emotion
and pattern of ours
where you filled up a world
with your promises,
your brows and palms
proverbs, psalms
sleep and questions
your absence beckons

letting us know
memories are what you are now
stories as long as we live to say them
stories with a rhythm embedded
we all learn quick
we pass it on
a new gossip
john wayne colored
each of us newly aware

we are to hold
the million small pieces
of your greatness
we, who all came from you
on our way home