2009

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my father's death.

I find that I turn to poetry whenever I remember him.

I wrote this one soon after he died.
(A man on the bus looked a little too long before he averted his eyes.)

Were you curious when you watched her on the bus?

You saw her brow contract in sudden pain, but met her eye before you looked away.

Were you curious when you saw a falling tear?

Consider now what gave it right to flow.  She couldn’t tell you, but I'll let you know.

Her father died.

If you dared to touch her inner wrist

to count the measure of her beating heart. You’d hear a broken rhythm tear apart:

Da-ddy Da-ddy Da-ddy Da-ddy Da-ddy.

Did you wonder at the sudden peaceful sigh?

The sparkle in her eye, the smile given? She remembered in that moment that he lived

And talked,

And laughed,

And held her in his arms.

Da-ddy  Da-ddy Da-ddy Da-ddy Da-ddy.