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.