Trying

For My Father

Against the scorn in his winds,
I set sail, and prayed for smoother seas
than I deserved. If only I understood
the waters . . . but then, I might walk them,
and, understanding nothing, survive.
                                  I’ve learned too much.
The harbors of reason are closed to me.
The waves repeat themselves, endlessly.
The shore is distant, still.
                                  What he never could explain,
I can’t, either. The difference is, he died,
and I keep trying.