you are awakened at 3 a.m.
by a thunder-storm, and a
down-pour, and a heavy
knowledge of sad-ness,
seeping down hard and
into every waiting gap.
you didn’t realize you were
waiting, wanting something
to push its way in and pull
you apart, to tear you off
your tidy little course and drown
you in the wild invisibles.
your father was dying four years
ago at this very time, under
this very rain. there is a strange
comfort in the lining of this loss,
a continuing kin-ship, a bond
that is still being tied. everything
that has ever happened, that is happening,
that is going to happen, is all here:
braided into this trinity knot
you twist between your fingers.
the knob of it reassures, takes you to
places where you have the permission
and capacity to truly see, and feel, and be.
it is no wonder you dream of flying,
carrying the treasure-package of
past/present/future clutched to your chest.
you are relieved of its weight
by just a fraction of the knowledge of
its maker. more than the knowing is
the feeling that takes over and drives
you home, every time. you let go and
let it take you; it knows the way.
you close your eyes and breathe in sleep
and remember your father.