I sit with myself for awhile
putting handles on what I've placed
With empty hand I can grasp them
And put back memories abandoned on dinner table
Back onto My Library shelves.
There is a place in our hearts and minds and necks
My Dad lives now in memory and our hearts and connections,
And quite a few odds and ends like Knick-Knacks,
Twixt us and them his friends and family as scions of my Dad.
We are Sprouted, Pruned, and Planted Elsewhere now...
We keep going, sadly, we keep going For --Oblivion-- itself won't save us.
I have to go through the door and keep going
Because I can't go underneath, around, or over the difficult wall.
I have to keep going, I've only been shown the door
And it is I that has to walk through it.
