ON THE DEATH OF A FATHER OF MY FRIEND
I MOURN YOU
THOUGH I NEVER KNEW YOU
I NEVER BOUGHT YOU A BEER
LAUGHED AT YOUR JOKES
OR SHARED YOUR VIEWS
YET I MOURN YOU STILL
FOR YOUR DEATH IS A LOSS TO ONE I LOVE
AND I AM DIMINISHED BY IT
AND SO I MOURN YOU
BUT MORE
FOR YOU SHAPED AND BROUGHT INTO BEING
MY FRIEND
SOMEWHERE IN YOU THEN WAS A GIFT OF BEAUTY
AND THAT MUCH BEAUTY IS NOW GONE
AND I MOURN YOU
NOW YOU SLEEP OUT IN THE RAIN
ALL YOUR ELEMENTS GOING BACK TO GOD
NOW THE SENSE OF LOSS GIVES MY FRIEND PAIN
BUT IN THE SPRING
WHEN CROCUS BUDS PEEK THROUGH THE SNOW
COME BACK
WITH MEMORIES WARM
ALL HARSH THOUGHTS FORGOTTEN
COME BACK WITH MEMORIES OF LAUGHTER
AND MAKE MY HEART-FRIEND
SMILE
JOURNEY'S END
STANDING BY MY WINDOW
WATCHING THE SUNSET GO
FROM MULTI-HUED TO LUMINESCENT PEARL
WATCHING A BIRD FLY
LONELY
ACROSS THE SKY
AND WONDER ING
WHY IS HE NOT HOME
AS I AM
WARM AND SHELTERED
AND WITH THE ONE I LOVE
WHY DOES HE FLY ACROSS THE SKY
THE LEGEND GOES
THAT 0N THE ANNIVERSARY OF THEIR DEATH
THE SOULS OF THOSE WHO HAVE DIED THAT DAY
COME BACK TO VISIT FOR AWHILE
THEN FLY BACK TOWARD THE SUN
I WATCH THE SOUL OF THIS ONE FLY AND WONDER
WHY THERE IS SADNESS IN MY SOUL
FOR HE HAS GONE ON THAT LAST JOURNEY
ON WHICH WE ALL SHALL GO
AND HAS FOUND PEACE
AND LEFT ME CRYING
WITH A PIECE OF ME TORN OUT
AND FLYING TOWARD THE SUN
SHALL I LAUGH WITH TEARS
OR CRY WITH LAUGHTER
OR WISH YOU WELL ON YOUR JOURNEY
TO DREAMS FOR YOU
TO SORROW FOR US
AND TO THE CONSOLING THOUGHT
THAT IT IS GOD'S HAND AWAITING THE BIRD OF YOUR SOUL
TO GIVE IT SHELTER
TO GIVE IT A HOME
A PLACE OF WARMTH
OF LOVE
AND AN END TO THE JOURNEY
THE SHAWL
THE SHAWL IS FINISHED
I HAVE WOVEN THE WOOL WITH TEARS
I HAVE HURT MY FINGERS
AND SUCKED SORROW
BUT I AM DONE WITH WEEPING NOW
IT WAS FITTING HE SHOULD DIE IN FALL
OR EARLY WINTER REALLY
WHEN GRAYNESS COMES UPON THE LAND
WOULD I CALL HIM BACK
TO RE-SUFFER ALL HIS PAINS
TO ELIMINATE MY OWN
DID I NOT LOVE HIM TO THE POINT I COULD LET HIM GO
IF GOING WERE THE BETTER CHOICE
BUT I AM DONE WITH WEEPING
THE SHAWL IS FINISHED
I SHALL FIND OTHER THINGS TO DO
TO MY FATHER
I DID NOT ALWAYS LOVE YOU
THERE WERE TIMES WHEN YOUR PARENTAL CARE
CHAFED ACROSS MY FREEDOM DREAMS
LIKE A CAGED SPARROW I BEAT AGAINST THE BARS
NOT KNOWING I WAS TOO YOUNG TO FLY
BUT THEN I WAS MARRIED
AND THEN I GREW UP
AND MY CHILDREN HEARD IN MY VOICE THE ECHO OF YOURS
I SAW THE SAME BIRD BEATING IN THEIR EYES
I FELT THE SAME SAD BEWILDERMENT OF A FATHER
WITH HIS CHILD
AND I LEARNED TO LOVE YOU
IT IS PROBABLY IN THE NATURE OF THINGS
THAT A PERSON SHOULD ONLY KNOW HIS FATHER AS HE AGES
AS HE HIMSELF BECOMES FATHER TO THE CHILD
IF IT WILL COMFORT
KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU
AND I REGRET
IT TOOK SO LONG
WHY
WHY
OF ALL THE LEAVES THAT FELL IN AUTUMN
THAT ONE TOOK MY EYE
PERHAPS IT WAS THE WAY IT FELL
RELUCTANT TO COME DOWN
SOARING HIGHER THAN THE TREE IT LEFT
WHIRLING AND WHIRLING UNTIL WITH ONE LONG GLIDE
IT SETTLED ON THE POND
MOVING ON THE WATER WITH THE BREEZE
THEY WILL NOT COME
THEY CANNOT COME
NOT EVEN IF WE CAME FOR THEM
THEY ARE SICK AT CHRISTMAS
AND CANNOT COME
MY PARENTS TO THE HOMECOMING
THE GATHERING OF THE CLAN
MY HOUSE THE LARGEST
THEY CANNOT COME
SOMEDAY I KNOW THE UMBILICAL CORD OF WHERE I CAME FROM
MUST BE CUT
AND I AM CHRISTIAN BORN AND BRED
AND DO BELIEVE
THAT LIFE FLOWS ON PAST DEATH
BUT THERE IS THAT PART OF ME THAT CRIES OUT STOP
STOP CLOCKS AND TIDES AND SEASONS ROLL
LET IT ALWAYS BE SPRING
OR AT LEAST AUTUMN
FOR AUTUMN IS WHERE THEY ARE
LATE AUTUMN
BUT DO I REALLY WISH THIS FOR MY FATHER
HE WHOM I FEARED THEN LOVED THEN WORRIED OVER LIKE A BABY
SHALL I KEEP HIM LATE IN AUTUMN
AND MY MOTHER GENTLE WITCH
DRUID PRIESTESS FROM ANOTHER TIME
PROTECTOR OF LIFE TEACHER OF ROBINS TO FLY
MAKER OF WHO I AM
SHOULD SHE STAY IN AUTUMN
DOES SHE NOT YEARN ONCE MORE TO BE JOINED TO MOTHER EARTH
TO CHANGE TO TRANSMUTE HER LIFE
TO BECOME TREES AND FLOWERS AND FLOWING GRASS
MY MOTHER EVER YOUNG
SHOULD SHE STAY IN AUTUMN
I THINK WHAT FRIGHTENS ME MOST
IS THAT WHEN THEY'RE GONE
I SHALL HAVE NO HISTORY
OR IS IT THAT I SHALL BE PROMOTED TO THEIR PLACE
AS ELDEST OF THE LINE
I'M SURE THIS CHRISTMAS WILL BE WARM
THE CLAN GATHERING LIKE MANY CANDLES
COMING TO MAKE A FIRE
THAT WE WILL CALL MY PARENTS ON CHRISTMAS EVE
AND WISH THEM WELL
MAKE PLANS FOR OUR VISIT
BUT KNOWING ME
THERE WILL BE A TIME ON CHRISTMAS EVE
WHEN I SHALL DRAW THE CURTAINS ON THE HOUSE
SIT BY THE FIRE
AND TRY TO GET WARM
ON THE EVENING OF THE DAY HE DIED
ON THE EVENING OF THE DAY HE DIED
THROUGH THE WINDOW WHERE WE SAT
WAITING ON THE WORD
A RISING SUN AND QUARTER MOON
WERE VISIBLE IN THE SKY
BUSY BIRDS IN MORNING FLIGHT
AND ICICLES NOT YET WARMED BY DAY
ALPHA AND OMEGA
BEGINNING AND ENDING
BEGINNING
MY FATHER'S DEAD
I TOOK HIS FACE INTO MY HANDS
AND CALLED TO HIM PAST HIS UNCONSCIOUSNESS
GO TO SLEEP DAD
WE'RE ALL HERE
MOM IS WITH US AND WE ARE SAFE
THEN HE DIED
I HAD WISHED HIM DEAD
I HAD TOLD THE DOCTORS
THAT I WISHED HIM DEAD
NOT A BODY BREATHING
BUT HE WOULD NOT GO
TILL LIKE IN YOUNGER DAYS
HE WOULD NOT SLEEP TILL WE WERE HOME
TILL I COULD SAY
SLEEP WELL DAD
WE ARE HOME AND WE ARE SAFE
IN THE EVENING OF THAT DAY HE SLIPPED AWAY
MY MOTHER STOOD BY HIS BED AND SAID
YOU'RE STILL A HANDSOME MAN
I COULD NOT CRY
THE SHELL
IS IT JUST HIS DEATH THAT WE REMEMBER
IN THIS GIVING OF THIS CUP
THIS SHELL THIS BAPTISMAL DEVICE
THAT SCOOPS UP WATER FROM THE FONT
AND TRICKLES IT DOWN OUR HEAD
AND CALL US TO BE CHRISTIAN
DO WE JUST REMEMBER HIS DEATH
OR MORE FOR IS NOT THE CUP A SYMBOL POOR
OF SOME GREAT WAVE THAT OVERWHELMS US
SPILLING US FROM OUR FEET
PLUNGING US INTO A VIOLENT SEA
BEATING PUMMELING CHOKING BRUISING
UNTIL WE STRUGGLE TO OUR FEET
GASPING AIR AS SOMETHING PRECIOUS
WILLING TO LIVE
A BETTER SYMBOL PERHAPS OF THAT TIME
WHEN ALL THAT WAS MY FATHER CEASED
AND ALL HE WANTED TO BE BECAME
A GOING AWAY AND COMING BACK
A SAYING OF HELLO GOODBYE
TO CALL MY FATHER A SAINT
WOULD BE TO NOT REMEMBER HIM
BUT TO CALL HIM A MAN
WHO LAUGHED AND LONGED YEARNED AND DREAMED
WHO CRIED OUT OFTEN IN THE DARKNESS OF HIS BEING
WHO WAS OFTEN ANGRY HURT OR IN SOME PAIN
WHO LOVED WITH BOTH A LARGE AND NARROW HEART
WHO WANTED LOVE APPLAUSE AND OTHER MAN'S ESTEEM
WHO SAW DREAMS CRUMBLE IN HIS ALL THUMBS HAND
WHO CRIED OH GOD TELL ME WHO I AM
THIS PICTURE OF A MAN WHO AS I GROW
BECOMES SURPRISINGLY JUST LIKE ME
THIS CUP IN WHOSE HOLLOW I CAN HEAR THE OCEAN'S ROAR
THIS SYMBOL OF AN OCEAN POOR
THIS GOING DOWN TO DEATH
TO BE CALLED BACK BY WATER RUNNING LIKE RAINDROPS ON THE FACE
LIKE MY TEARS FALLING AS MY FATHER WENT
FOR REBIRTH
AND THE BEGINNING OF DREAMS
FRANK A VOLLMER
I MOURN YOU
THOUGH I NEVER KNEW YOU
I NEVER BOUGHT YOU A BEER
LAUGHED AT YOUR JOKES
OR SHARED YOUR VIEWS
YET I MOURN YOU STILL
FOR YOUR DEATH IS A LOSS TO ONE I LOVE
AND I AM DIMINISHED BY IT
AND SO I MOURN YOU
BUT MORE
FOR YOU SHAPED AND BROUGHT INTO BEING
MY FRIEND
SOMEWHERE IN YOU THEN WAS A GIFT OF BEAUTY
AND THAT MUCH BEAUTY IS NOW GONE
AND I MOURN YOU
NOW YOU SLEEP OUT IN THE RAIN
ALL YOUR ELEMENTS GOING BACK TO GOD
NOW THE SENSE OF LOSS GIVES MY FRIEND PAIN
BUT IN THE SPRING
WHEN CROCUS BUDS PEEK THROUGH THE SNOW
COME BACK
WITH MEMORIES WARM
ALL HARSH THOUGHTS FORGOTTEN
COME BACK WITH MEMORIES OF LAUGHTER
AND MAKE MY HEART-FRIEND
SMILE
JOURNEY'S END
STANDING BY MY WINDOW
WATCHING THE SUNSET GO
FROM MULTI-HUED TO LUMINESCENT PEARL
WATCHING A BIRD FLY
LONELY
ACROSS THE SKY
AND WONDER ING
WHY IS HE NOT HOME
AS I AM
WARM AND SHELTERED
AND WITH THE ONE I LOVE
WHY DOES HE FLY ACROSS THE SKY
THE LEGEND GOES
THAT 0N THE ANNIVERSARY OF THEIR DEATH
THE SOULS OF THOSE WHO HAVE DIED THAT DAY
COME BACK TO VISIT FOR AWHILE
THEN FLY BACK TOWARD THE SUN
I WATCH THE SOUL OF THIS ONE FLY AND WONDER
WHY THERE IS SADNESS IN MY SOUL
FOR HE HAS GONE ON THAT LAST JOURNEY
ON WHICH WE ALL SHALL GO
AND HAS FOUND PEACE
AND LEFT ME CRYING
WITH A PIECE OF ME TORN OUT
AND FLYING TOWARD THE SUN
SHALL I LAUGH WITH TEARS
OR CRY WITH LAUGHTER
OR WISH YOU WELL ON YOUR JOURNEY
TO DREAMS FOR YOU
TO SORROW FOR US
AND TO THE CONSOLING THOUGHT
THAT IT IS GOD'S HAND AWAITING THE BIRD OF YOUR SOUL
TO GIVE IT SHELTER
TO GIVE IT A HOME
A PLACE OF WARMTH
OF LOVE
AND AN END TO THE JOURNEY
THE SHAWL
THE SHAWL IS FINISHED
I HAVE WOVEN THE WOOL WITH TEARS
I HAVE HURT MY FINGERS
AND SUCKED SORROW
BUT I AM DONE WITH WEEPING NOW
IT WAS FITTING HE SHOULD DIE IN FALL
OR EARLY WINTER REALLY
WHEN GRAYNESS COMES UPON THE LAND
WOULD I CALL HIM BACK
TO RE-SUFFER ALL HIS PAINS
TO ELIMINATE MY OWN
DID I NOT LOVE HIM TO THE POINT I COULD LET HIM GO
IF GOING WERE THE BETTER CHOICE
BUT I AM DONE WITH WEEPING
THE SHAWL IS FINISHED
I SHALL FIND OTHER THINGS TO DO
TO MY FATHER
I DID NOT ALWAYS LOVE YOU
THERE WERE TIMES WHEN YOUR PARENTAL CARE
CHAFED ACROSS MY FREEDOM DREAMS
LIKE A CAGED SPARROW I BEAT AGAINST THE BARS
NOT KNOWING I WAS TOO YOUNG TO FLY
BUT THEN I WAS MARRIED
AND THEN I GREW UP
AND MY CHILDREN HEARD IN MY VOICE THE ECHO OF YOURS
I SAW THE SAME BIRD BEATING IN THEIR EYES
I FELT THE SAME SAD BEWILDERMENT OF A FATHER
WITH HIS CHILD
AND I LEARNED TO LOVE YOU
IT IS PROBABLY IN THE NATURE OF THINGS
THAT A PERSON SHOULD ONLY KNOW HIS FATHER AS HE AGES
AS HE HIMSELF BECOMES FATHER TO THE CHILD
IF IT WILL COMFORT
KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU
AND I REGRET
IT TOOK SO LONG
WHY
WHY
OF ALL THE LEAVES THAT FELL IN AUTUMN
THAT ONE TOOK MY EYE
PERHAPS IT WAS THE WAY IT FELL
RELUCTANT TO COME DOWN
SOARING HIGHER THAN THE TREE IT LEFT
WHIRLING AND WHIRLING UNTIL WITH ONE LONG GLIDE
IT SETTLED ON THE POND
MOVING ON THE WATER WITH THE BREEZE
THEY WILL NOT COME
THEY CANNOT COME
NOT EVEN IF WE CAME FOR THEM
THEY ARE SICK AT CHRISTMAS
AND CANNOT COME
MY PARENTS TO THE HOMECOMING
THE GATHERING OF THE CLAN
MY HOUSE THE LARGEST
THEY CANNOT COME
SOMEDAY I KNOW THE UMBILICAL CORD OF WHERE I CAME FROM
MUST BE CUT
AND I AM CHRISTIAN BORN AND BRED
AND DO BELIEVE
THAT LIFE FLOWS ON PAST DEATH
BUT THERE IS THAT PART OF ME THAT CRIES OUT STOP
STOP CLOCKS AND TIDES AND SEASONS ROLL
LET IT ALWAYS BE SPRING
OR AT LEAST AUTUMN
FOR AUTUMN IS WHERE THEY ARE
LATE AUTUMN
BUT DO I REALLY WISH THIS FOR MY FATHER
HE WHOM I FEARED THEN LOVED THEN WORRIED OVER LIKE A BABY
SHALL I KEEP HIM LATE IN AUTUMN
AND MY MOTHER GENTLE WITCH
DRUID PRIESTESS FROM ANOTHER TIME
PROTECTOR OF LIFE TEACHER OF ROBINS TO FLY
MAKER OF WHO I AM
SHOULD SHE STAY IN AUTUMN
DOES SHE NOT YEARN ONCE MORE TO BE JOINED TO MOTHER EARTH
TO CHANGE TO TRANSMUTE HER LIFE
TO BECOME TREES AND FLOWERS AND FLOWING GRASS
MY MOTHER EVER YOUNG
SHOULD SHE STAY IN AUTUMN
I THINK WHAT FRIGHTENS ME MOST
IS THAT WHEN THEY'RE GONE
I SHALL HAVE NO HISTORY
OR IS IT THAT I SHALL BE PROMOTED TO THEIR PLACE
AS ELDEST OF THE LINE
I'M SURE THIS CHRISTMAS WILL BE WARM
THE CLAN GATHERING LIKE MANY CANDLES
COMING TO MAKE A FIRE
THAT WE WILL CALL MY PARENTS ON CHRISTMAS EVE
AND WISH THEM WELL
MAKE PLANS FOR OUR VISIT
BUT KNOWING ME
THERE WILL BE A TIME ON CHRISTMAS EVE
WHEN I SHALL DRAW THE CURTAINS ON THE HOUSE
SIT BY THE FIRE
AND TRY TO GET WARM
ON THE EVENING OF THE DAY HE DIED
ON THE EVENING OF THE DAY HE DIED
THROUGH THE WINDOW WHERE WE SAT
WAITING ON THE WORD
A RISING SUN AND QUARTER MOON
WERE VISIBLE IN THE SKY
BUSY BIRDS IN MORNING FLIGHT
AND ICICLES NOT YET WARMED BY DAY
ALPHA AND OMEGA
BEGINNING AND ENDING
BEGINNING
MY FATHER'S DEAD
I TOOK HIS FACE INTO MY HANDS
AND CALLED TO HIM PAST HIS UNCONSCIOUSNESS
GO TO SLEEP DAD
WE'RE ALL HERE
MOM IS WITH US AND WE ARE SAFE
THEN HE DIED
I HAD WISHED HIM DEAD
I HAD TOLD THE DOCTORS
THAT I WISHED HIM DEAD
NOT A BODY BREATHING
BUT HE WOULD NOT GO
TILL LIKE IN YOUNGER DAYS
HE WOULD NOT SLEEP TILL WE WERE HOME
TILL I COULD SAY
SLEEP WELL DAD
WE ARE HOME AND WE ARE SAFE
IN THE EVENING OF THAT DAY HE SLIPPED AWAY
MY MOTHER STOOD BY HIS BED AND SAID
YOU'RE STILL A HANDSOME MAN
I COULD NOT CRY
THE SHELL
IS IT JUST HIS DEATH THAT WE REMEMBER
IN THIS GIVING OF THIS CUP
THIS SHELL THIS BAPTISMAL DEVICE
THAT SCOOPS UP WATER FROM THE FONT
AND TRICKLES IT DOWN OUR HEAD
AND CALL US TO BE CHRISTIAN
DO WE JUST REMEMBER HIS DEATH
OR MORE FOR IS NOT THE CUP A SYMBOL POOR
OF SOME GREAT WAVE THAT OVERWHELMS US
SPILLING US FROM OUR FEET
PLUNGING US INTO A VIOLENT SEA
BEATING PUMMELING CHOKING BRUISING
UNTIL WE STRUGGLE TO OUR FEET
GASPING AIR AS SOMETHING PRECIOUS
WILLING TO LIVE
A BETTER SYMBOL PERHAPS OF THAT TIME
WHEN ALL THAT WAS MY FATHER CEASED
AND ALL HE WANTED TO BE BECAME
A GOING AWAY AND COMING BACK
A SAYING OF HELLO GOODBYE
TO CALL MY FATHER A SAINT
WOULD BE TO NOT REMEMBER HIM
BUT TO CALL HIM A MAN
WHO LAUGHED AND LONGED YEARNED AND DREAMED
WHO CRIED OUT OFTEN IN THE DARKNESS OF HIS BEING
WHO WAS OFTEN ANGRY HURT OR IN SOME PAIN
WHO LOVED WITH BOTH A LARGE AND NARROW HEART
WHO WANTED LOVE APPLAUSE AND OTHER MAN'S ESTEEM
WHO SAW DREAMS CRUMBLE IN HIS ALL THUMBS HAND
WHO CRIED OH GOD TELL ME WHO I AM
THIS PICTURE OF A MAN WHO AS I GROW
BECOMES SURPRISINGLY JUST LIKE ME
THIS CUP IN WHOSE HOLLOW I CAN HEAR THE OCEAN'S ROAR
THIS SYMBOL OF AN OCEAN POOR
THIS GOING DOWN TO DEATH
TO BE CALLED BACK BY WATER RUNNING LIKE RAINDROPS ON THE FACE
LIKE MY TEARS FALLING AS MY FATHER WENT
FOR REBIRTH
AND THE BEGINNING OF DREAMS
FRANK A VOLLMER
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