Uncle Bob's Words

Words, poetry, stuff like that

Archive for the month “February, 2017”

Dad

I am standing at the ledger stone on my father’s grave.

I had never seen it before.  I am 70 years old.

He died when I was 10 years old.  Took 60,

60 years for me to go the 65 miles to here.

 

I had been scanning and cleaning up old fampix

When I was intrigued by one shot of dad;

One of him and mom taken the month I was born;

Dad looks amused at whoever is holding the camera.

 

I thought I’d feel something standing here, but, no.

Too far away, too long ago; I wasn’t imprinting well.

Only vague memories, maybe just phony shadows.

“’Bye, dad,” I said and quietly walked away

 

Good Night

I remember my mother standing at the window, looking out

At the trees waving in a cold wind and a light flaking of snow.

“A good night to sleep,” she’d say.  And, sure, it was.

Under blankets. Safe and warm. Even now,

Every once in a while, when in winter’s grip, I think,

“A good night to sleep.”  It’s that sleep grows fragile

As I age and ache and really need to get up to pee.

Even then, sliding into the residual warmth again,

I sleep a good night.  Good night.

Hapax

Perhaps the Word of God is a hapax legomenon

Waiting for us in the dark of the night,

The kiss of the wind as it sighs by our ears.

The one Word, only one, only once, a hapax

In time and space, anchored there and strong.

All around it flows the else, always moving

To the beginning at the end of the end.

The Word just waits.

We’ll find it.  We’ll say it.

And nothing will happen.

We’ll say the word again, louder.

Now it’s no longer a hapax.

God has moved on.

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