Crag the Crow

Just a jot about the end of things for the  marginal mourner on this bier of rest that was laid in place for this  wary wayfarer, as an offering of pained fitful rest for this one,  too. And it gave pain to his fatted raiment. Hard wood offering a consolation and rest for none now, But much for later. Later is sooner than the age of these unyielding planks And less the span of the each one’s dissolute life. This one slept on a bier by baggage claim at the desolate port. The other went to his consolation encased in a blessed greenwood. Restless in life, a potential poorly employed, A piteous man wracked on the inside Now immolated and destroyed without. A man’s vibrant dark hair, roiling muscles and full face Thrashed by time’s tyrannical torture. His soul frittered away, lost at sea by piece through decades. The box ships him to fairer shores and to a harbor master Who forgets his just fare. And the wake of the sailing spruce May have drowned remaining ones under the dark...

I have had two fathers and I have been cast off by both of them. From my perch, it seems as if both of them were easily able to cast me aside - one because of his own mental deficiencies, and the other because I manifested my failures in front of him. Both had professed undying love and paternity.  One was biological and God-given.  The other was spiritual and also God-given. My father, my Dad, has not lived in the same home with me since I was a teen.  He was ejected from the family home in a horrifying evening of abuse and recompense.  It was a few months after that when we began to heal the relationship.  Over the next twenty years, there were periods of drought and periods of festal joy in our relationship.  When the judgment for his state mandated quarantine was passed, I became his loving correspondent.  When life’s happenstance returned us to within a driving distance, we visited each other more often.  By that time, I was a daddy too....