Fredi Magazine Spring 2017 / Volume 3 Issue 1 - Page 53

SONS + FATHERS. Father falls and son grabs a knee, closer to the ground they both be. The soil once tilled, at once, still for me. This is no tragedy he insists, believe me, you’ll see, a more peaceful passing there cannot be. In life there is no other where a father is found, there is no border, no limit, no ground. Only in absence LWM[\PQ[^WQKMÅVLQ\[[W]VL before this nothing, not even a noun. All the discussions suddenly hit home, the pitch and the timber forming the tone. This is no tragedy he insists, believe me, you’ll see, twisting and tying is life’s specialty. Only in ending can one see what’s lost, the deeper the cold, the thicker the frost. Melding and melting occur on their own, as the voice grown louder reads like a tome. The words set in as the face takes shape, the body standing, the expression sedate. AMIZ[WNKWTTMK\QVONWZUQVIÆI[P \WOM\PMZ\PMaÅVQ[PM^MV\PMTI[\TI[P The laugh is familiar the posture prone, there’s simply no doubting \PQ[ÅO]ZMWN[\WVM This is no tragedy he insists, believe me, you’ll see, exit a father, and the remainder is me. BOREDOM. *MKIZMN]T\WK]ZMJWZMLWU_Q\P KWV[\IV\IK\Q^Q\aNWZ\PMUWZMIK\Q^MWVMQ[IVL \PMUWZMWVMQ[JWZML_Q\PQVIK\Q^Q\a·\PMZMQ[VW TQNM_Q\PW]\UWUMV\[WN QVIK\Q^ Q\a REGRET.