Thoughts of My Father

Sky

I thought I might find you here
coaxing your precious plants to feed our family
with the help of shape shifters that transport mist

from mountain peaks that seduce the foolish
from insistent waves that soothe the senses
from meandering streams that inspire the poet
from salty tears that contain life’s yearning.

But the cerulean garden was heaven’s camouflage
for the ancient future of hope
that I might find you here.

Perhaps next time.

This is a re-post from November 2012.  I took this photo from the airplane as I was about to land in Hawaii.  It was like flying through heaven.  I changed the original title (“I Thought I Might Find You Here”).  

 

 

Quandary

quandary

Phyllis recited deliverance prayers
throughout her life of fundamental

Christian values that preached
discerning judgment that condemned

heathens who don’t say the sinner’s
prayer and women who were not

virgins on their wedding nights and
children who strayed from gender

birth assignments and other Old
Testimony ideologies even though

Jesus himself said, I bring you a new
commandment to love as I love

you.  When Phyllis finally died and went
to heaven, Peter asked her entitled soul

at the pearly gate, Phyllis dear child,
Father asks you to surrender your

seat but for a short time.  Phyllis wailed
Noooo, I waited so long but I would

do it for my precious son Albert.  But Peter
said, No, Albert’s time is far and long

away.  Phyllis offered her place in
line for grand-babies yet to come but

Peter slowly shook his head saying, Give
your seat to Mustafa, a brave boy who threw

himself on a grenade to save his little
sister.  He arrives any minute and we

implore you to trade your place
for his beloved soul but Phyllis pulled

her hair and screamed she will
not, no will not, surrender her rightful

heaven seat for a heathen Muslim boy and
Peter sighed and shed Abba’s tears

and banished her to the hell preached
from her righteous pastor’s pulpit.