SONG OF MY FATHER’S SONG
I am the end of a long line
and the music plays in my head
feeling the need to sing the songs
of the silent living and the silent dead
To somehow feel and heal each one
right down to my grandfather’s son
To sing the songs of a slow gray man
who runs and runs till out of breath
chased yet by the swift dark wolves
of a long ago young mother’s death
With all the tender sores and songs
and all the stories he needed to tell
cauterized by a hard world’s fires
and the scabs on a private hell
And the part of him that I can’t touch
is the part of me that I can’t touch
the part of me I need so much
God help me to reach that note
God help me to clear my throat