dad

Your skin was hard

As leather

When I was a child

Taunt sinew of

A tough heritage.

It softened as you aged

Still showing every crease

Of history and devotion.

I was barely 25 when

You passed. . . didn't

Have a clue about the

World, myself, or

Where I was going.

When I told you it

Was ok to let go,

I would be fine ---

I lied.

I've never found my

Leathered skin, that

Heritage, history or devotion.

Still, many days, wondering

When I will get a clue

About the world, myself

Or where I am going.

There will come a time,

I will rest again,

My head upon your chest -

The safest place I've ever been.

Oct. 2, 2008