Resin and extract
caught in the throat of
a cough being swallowed
but sneezes
arrive in rushes
that can only
be described
as spiritual
bell tolls
Ring in my head like tinnitus
or pinch the nerve of sciatic
My father passed away ten years ago
yesterday
that’s nearly a quarter of my life
spent with a fallen hero
and not a lick of the spoils
can satisfy the tongue of expectations
if the vision seeking absolution
is swept up in a perpetual spiral
so we create some semblance of sense out of chaos
by building blocks with make-believe structures
only to be kicked over
by the innocence of youth or the final breath exhaling
The more tightly our hands grasp and squeeze
the quicker sand escapes through fingered sieves
so weep not for that which has been lost
and smile instead that it ever existed
The righteousness of nostalgic memories
is the sweetest blessing of consciousness in repose