He's in all-out warfare mode up there—
my father I so loved, who remained
silent unlike nearly every other soul
I've known to pass. Suddenly he's so
close to me but still barely speaks and
even refuses to say with whom
he is at war, specifically.

Is it really all of you? Only
words he spoke were to "stand down." I laughed
of course, at which point I felt a nudge 
to "focus on the future." OK,
I said. Which future, exactly, with
given circumstance would you suggest? 
Radio silence. I read his poems,

Little fragments of philosophy.
This one rang quite true so I share it
now with all, honestly in effort
to have him ease up just a wee bit.
If any involved wish for reprieve
I imagine heeding his wisdom 
could not hurt and might help heal something. 

    "Beware the wings of hate
    for they are wide and strong.
    They fly over boundaries
    of age and life; they soar
    over reason and right.
    Their aftermath is depression
    and despondency. They see
    no boundaries, recognize no limits.
    They are the child of an unknowing mind
    and an unfeeling heart. Their result is
    destruction, woe, heartbreak and despair."

There are other wings that can be
chosen and might in time be given 
to those who refuse to overreach
through domination, disrespect, such
dishonor of all bonds he stood for:
love, loyalty, honor, service and
responsibility. I have sought,

Seek still to follow in his footsteps,
giant though they were, at least follow
his lead in this regard. These five things 
along with other things I hold in
high esteem have been my guide and are
aligned with who I am. I fall short
but seek to course correct when I do.

He and I spoke often toward the end
of ways we begin, begin again.
I told him one day that he was a
master of the mind. He thanked me, then
in rare moment of acknowledgement
he said he saw my heart. Now he smiles,
sees sharp mind I use as it's needed.