Please Deliver This to Heaven
a poem for the ear.
so many faces to light up
as yours, many times i’ve seen.
first,
rehearsal.
read each verse aloud
tinker to-and-fro with the words
stumble here and there through the syllables
twist around on the turns
rearrange phrasing
reminisce my way
through the way you listened, no
lived with my thoughts
your facial expressions
embracing each ink-stained inflection
following the dog-eared trail through my mind.
i’ve realized over time
i’ve become quite adept
at reading blank faces
interpreting various exaggerated proclamations
such as “Wow!” “Oh, my!” “Oh, my, that’s nice!”
and “What the hell was that?”
never realized
it was you i couldn’t fully appreciate
you the pioneer
you and your gift of light to the words.
oh, to have grasped
the weight and weightlessness of those moments
appreciated the pride glimmering in your eyes
that satisfied smile of faith that says, “smile answered.”
i guess i miss reading for you
still hope these words would make you smile
want to give you something
for each bounce on your aching knees
for every breath of poetry —
for singing while tugging pinkies
— smile to smile —
just two little piggies
squealing, “wee, wee, wee!”
’til our favorite poem found a home
in this poem.
you snuck up on me — it seems
with nursery rhymes and lullabies
from Kipling to Poe — light and shade—
you watered me in any soil, patiently
consistently, and most importantly
(though you never preached) religiously.
we were in it deeper than laughter
but show me what’s deeper than laughter?
you loosed me on humanity
with all those thoughts stewing, brewing
rippling through the shockwaves of the years
the trickle near forgotten, but the lost — never lost
when i was most thirsty, you a mountain stream.
what does one do in a world
where tectonic plates collide
when the prodigal son sets his sights
on the road to the other side?
your answer was to see me off
with all the love love could provide.
wrapped it in a prayer —
“I pray I see you soon!”
we said goodbye with our eyes.
gates to our hearts, shutters, and doors swung wide.
i carried your prayer through Hell.
a prayer to dust off the ash.
you can bet my boots — tryin’ it on —
it fits like a glove.
won’t finish this poem in a lifetime — still rehearsing.
perhaps if i read it loud enough, you’ll hear.
all i know for certain
shaped from the bedrock of your life,
it’s about us here in the here and now.
yes, ’twas many poems ago,
so much verse beneath the bridge.
yes, water flows,
and when i look upstream
i see you still flowing,
a mighty river
flowing easy
into this ocean
ever rolling
with dreams.
First published by Lit Up on Medium