Sitting with My Father

amywink October 4th, 2018

There are days when I just
sit with my father in the quiet,
which we both prefer to the
terrifying dreams he cannot
always end, those into which
I can only sometimes reach
to lead him toward
some peaceful place
much longer ago than now.

I remind him how much we are
alike, thoughtful and deep.
“And so quiet” he recently said
about me, knowing who
I truly am, how much time
I spend in silence.

I remember all the years
we were quiet together,
driving to school
in the dark mornings,
silently preparing
for our public days,
just being
until a thought worth
speaking came to mind.

I remember the long drive
to Kansas when he came
to help me home,
and how he listened,
so carefully, that when we lost
each other in Oklahoma City,
on our return, we found each other
where I had said I always stopped,

I remember how I told him years later
in his fear of being lost,
how we had found each other then
and how I would always find him
because he had taught me
how to listen and I had
learned also how to look.

I think about this long last journey
we are on together, not knowing
when it will end, but also knowing
now is the time to speak
the things worth saying,
those deliberate thoughts
that form in that deep
quiet into which God will speak.

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