III

My father
Smiles a fleet of broken wisdom
Ships still searching for shore
But maybe that's the beauty of it

He teaches things he once forgot
And ages beyond to tell
And still every time he says it
I can feel that my heart solidifies

My father
A branded name
A husband and mister to all of my young friends
Who told me when enough wasn't
And that we could buy whatever I wanted

Is a wedding hand that sleeps
Gold nestled in between those
Fingers like mine
Ships still sеarching for shore
But maybe that's the bеauty of it

My father
Is a good man
Never known any other
But a good man that went gone
And I didn't get to see
Didn't get to know how good he was
Until I met sons and tried to match them to moons
Knew they were not good enough but thirsted for something to fill
Allowed him to buy me whatever I wanted
Knew that meant he could love me
Until he didn't
And then he was gone too

My father
Not yet in heaven
Is still an angel sent
From above
A lucky me, to know that love
And call it the hands of my own
How lucky am 1?
To hear the words
"You know how much your daddy loves you"
And feel like I could cry
Because I can hear the gods honest truth
In that hollowed and treasure trove mouth
I can hear
The dusted records
The crooked paintings
The books he read
And the ones he could write
Can hear the black-toothed cavities
And the times he knew I was lying
Can hear the yelling and the screams
And when I learned how to talk back
Can hear the love only he could give me
And the years it took
For me to know that it was the love
Only he could give me
And that what a love it was

My father
Who art not in heaven
Hallowed be thy name
You gave me yours
And said, "I don't want you to ever question who your father is"
And I smiled
A sitting vessel upon your lap
In that old attic of music
And knew
How much you loved me
And
I can't tell you how much that means