my father never died, so i never
buried him
in memories
but am still him with a child dancing
atop his shoes waltzing -- twirling
light-footed -- all around the room
i am him a little too inebriated
perched on top a step ladder in
the middle of the dance floor at a
most proper country club dance
happily singing and laughing
and joking with the more staid
contained and even disapproving
people on the floor below and
i am him in an open cockpit plane
high above the earth feeling that rush
that thrill of being one with the sky
free as a winged bird with no limits
and leaning fearlessly over the
side looking down on the receding
earth and disappointed when the
ride with heaven ends too soon
and i am him with tap roots deep
in the soil and him with a spirit as wild
as the prairie wind and a restless soul
with restless feet anxious to keep
moving on to take another gamble
and lose -- and try again at something
else -- a little wiser -- knowing i may
lose again -- then try another venture
i am him when i make mistakes
in judgement -- and i am him
racing on the one way road of life
unafraid to live and unafraid to die
i am him with the empty spot inside
because he is the only one i asked
who knew what i meant because he
had one too after his only son died
i am him -- small in stature
trying to conquer the whole workd
and never succeeding but able to
encourage or help another to try
I am him sitting on his haunches on
a dirt road in a mexican pueblo sharing
a tequilla and laughing and talking
in the universal language
dialect is just simple understanding
respect and warmth and some humor
i am him teaching a child to swim
to ride a bike ice skate rollerskate
drive a car and try to excel at just
one thing enough to give you the
self-esteem to reach higher and
compete not with others but yourself
I am him playing black jack or hearts
with the kids just because its fun to
watch them gloat when they win and
also letting them know it's okay to lose
and i am him with an oxygen tank
on his back out deep sea fishing and
landing the biggest catch of the day
just weeks before they say he died
but they lied
i am him as he guides the hand
that pens these thoughts -- these
memories and bravura wisdoms
because i never buried
my father in memory since
he is very much alive in
every line within this book
he is me -- so fully richly
completely human and so
perfectly imperfect
that
my father never died
August 29, 1998
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