Poem – “Father’s Woe” – Fathers – 11/20/2020

Tiredness
Speaks more upon the sunken lips,
Than the grave to welcome him
Under the iron that has stilled
Like the halting train.
For I feel no pulse
To take him on
Past the feathers in his eyes,
Past the weather on his cheeks.
For all peace,
With every morsel of his age
Has lasted him
Until breathing moments
Come undone.

Lakes
With canoes to ripple us past
Certain moments of history,
Leak me, the pleasantry
Of a thousand more nuances
I could now favor.

With eyes cast for oceans
Of tidal waves to emotion,
I stand here,
Counting the cracks in his palms,
Forcing the storms away
From his side.

A bleeding man
Whose comfort now resides
In the wilted universe,
Of a death, where no sighs
Come unheard.

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