It was moonless the night I drove my son to the Fargo airport after my father's burial. Coming back I lost myself - not so much in the streets, which weave together neatly as a tic-tac-toe box, but on the roads of an internal map I lost my bearings as I wandered between airport and graveyard. Those two male lives which bordered mine, like railroad tracks constricting it at times, now follow their own compass. I drive alone, all direction lost to the dark in which I cannot find my father's voice, although my son's holds my ear, a fading diesel call. The wind comes in my window like the breath of silence where my father spoke. It is as if the opening of the earth for him has left some door ajar and I, in this vast room of fields, am shivering in its draft. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SORROW OF LOVE (1) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS NOVEMB. 5. 1644 by JOSEPH BEAUMONT SONNET: DREAM-LOVE by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE TAPESTRY by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES IN MEMORY OF A DUMB FRIEND by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR LOVE, NOT DUTY by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH THE HYMNARY: 320. WHITSUNTIDE by CHARLES COFFIN |