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this is not a lesson in recovery

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this is

a waterwheel that doesn’t belong

on the face of a loved one

 

the gushing lake of just about

the captured sonata of a lifelong stillness

 

this is standing bedside

the greatest man I could never know

the stoic calloused hands

that made train tracks and other, less societally relevant

additions to my universe

now devoured the privilege of strength

 

this is dad handing me a baseball

mom trying the same with a marker

and me holding both out

wanting to be done with the entirety

 

“could you sign this, grandpa?”

 

He’s crying

 

this is my concussed recounting

of a failed and successful farewell

Comments (1)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Quite a powerful poem. The ending says it all.

Brandon_Hennen
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