Poetry

Father

Father

Always distant
yet present.
Like a graffiti stained monument:
aged,
worn,
enduring,
unreachable,
yet
bearing humor in permanent ink.

When I am in need
of guidance,
I have only to
look,
ask,
listen,
understand,
and then
at the end I will receive laughter
free of charge.

You are
memories
of doves and fish and clean air,
of harvest,
feasting,
family,
jokes.
You are my father.
And a piece of you I carry
in my heart.