Restless and wanting to get up and move
something my father can no longer do
not even if he wanted to
but who knows
maybe he’s flying high all about
as if unchained by what holds us all down
zigzagging around on the air
even now as we speak and are lost in our recollections
maybe flying around this house inside and out
then over the roof and up to the clouds and back
or even around the lighthouses
in the world standing tall among the waves
shining in the blackest night to ships out there
grateful for the lighthouses
like the one in the photo
on the pamphlet they gave out at the funeral home
with the waves coming in on the rocks
with the facts of his life boiled down to a few letters and numbers
plus a favorite Psalm designed to console
and help us to fear not
with simple promises that the Lord
keepeth thee and will not slumber
reassuring us entirely
because the Lord shall preserve thy going out
and thy coming in from this time forth,
and even for evermore
which just about covers it
and does still one’s nerves
then I remember just how much
I loved to listen to my father’s voice
grow suddenly quiet from the pulpit
as he aimed to make a point
he wouldn’t boom it out
it was almost a whisper
like the waves coming in at any shore
he is flying over now.


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