Of Fathers And Mentors

OF FATHERS AND MENTORS


The conditions on the special photograph
of, one, father, who has educated me
stares back, bruised in black and white, etched as a god.
Born into a kind family who supped with him,
his vision breathes his "dig" poetry en masse`.

I see him on the ocean's crusty bottom,
gone to the "sharks" and prey for the skeleton
of dead fish. "You are known, my friend." I cry out.

Once, in a willy-nilly dream I asked too
much of him, knowing that the children want change,
breakage of light in their eyes, loved for knowing
him. He did not move. He did not deny I
was wrong. The pale white horse that he rides out on, gives
him destiny's constellations to sigh over!

Like the horizon's last statement, at your end,
that sends you to a burnt rust sunset as briliant as the
one we saw together when we began our trust, so too, does
your unofferable face blend with the coat-tailes
of fine young men in dregs,

I look agape, at you,dear mentor, father. Go softly
into heaven's gate.