How can i say it? I go to look in the places we were and only see the change , without spirit.
How can I tell you , that I go to find the places where he worked and I can't find them anymore, though I was there as his laborer
How can i tell you what you already know. WE all die.
How can I find the lessons of my father unless I live them out loud or in the quiet of my own?
How , Dear father gone, can I share with you, the his-story of life when you have none left?
I am not a ghost yet, like you though I still have your fathers songs in my hand
The stone cutters prayer, the chippys work, the type of breathing it takes, it took to remember how special it was to learn from you both.
I have gone out in the world father and left too much behind
Father can you hear me?
my own breathing that came from you and mother?
have you heard that I hold your memories in my heart, in my echo, in my tears?
Father, have i told you that I , I listened to the stories I never heard from you,
Father, I heard you calling when I was young, as if I was already this old
Father, I have gone back to the old places where i dreamed most and made my home there, to be closer .
In honored prayer , holding gently the chimera of your living idea, as if I could come upon you and watch you full of life.
The lesson father, I am so greatful, so lonely, so connected sometimes to ghosts, that i am one of them.
then you laugh.
I wake even though I was n't sleeping
and I put my hand to a new drawing that will describe my path or write a reverance, like this, that others may read, for you.
I miss you.