Tendrils of omnipotent grace
float beyond the known:
honeysuckle from a place you wait
for aeons to pass.

Your words so clear
they cut away all misdemeanor,
face I can’t retrace, lost to touch
you’ve left me struggling in this place
where children’s voices stretch
to bind us.

To hold you one more time
hear your voice unclouded by another’s thoughts,
although we never said that much
these feelings leap across death’s chasm,
a father and a daughter’s need to say
however much time slips between

how strong the bonds of human love are.