Two Fathers
for David Chan
I don't have the bones of my father –
to clean and hang in the air,
as you have and do.
Even as your father lives.
My father is ash,
and it is grateful memories
that dangle before my eyes.
It wasn't always so.
He once sat in a chair,
back turned to our family,
making dozens of cardboard boxes –
one empty space for each of many things unsaid,
one empty space for each of many things done.
Like you, I kept part of my life
from my father.
One day, he reached out for
my help. From that day on,
we had no secrets.
You say that your father's bones
are also your bones.
What if he knew?
Chinese poet Li Yu once wrote:
Separation is just like a taste
in head and heart.
Li Yu (837-878)
Line taken from the poem I Climb the Western Tower in Silence.
Jeremy Roberts MC’s at Napier Live Poets, interviews poets on Radio Hawke’s Bay, and makes poem videos. Published widely, he has performed with musicians and is poetry editor for Hawke’s Bay’s Vines journal. He won the Earl of Seacliff poetry prize in 2019.
