For the Love of a Father 

Craved admiration for the love of a father drives my being cliffside. Dared inches by bare feet stand I, unsteady, clawed talons clenching stone edges. Steadfast stillness overtakes the charged chains held by an absent father. Riptides slap against the scree, magnetizing and repulsing sediment, echoing the fate of the forgotten heir. Gazing down at the talus, trembling against a sea wall, heartbeats  flutter on wings made of false memories. Concealed in masonry, arm-side, a once-breathing existence reduced to ash nears final release at the hands of an estranged son. Relinquishing resentment on wind backs. Failures of a father fly into the fjord, released into the sphere as your final wish, and thus, bury your shouldered burdens in the sky. Recoiling backward, I shut the stone prison that housed the dusty remains that belonged to a nomadic soul. His entity escapes on a passing zephyr, but I remain tethered to fortitude, forgetting the ergonomics of forgiveness. Transgression turns my attention from the convict that evaded capture, even in death, to the radiant eyes staring lovingly up at me from the end of an outstretched arm—my boy. A clean slate not yet stained by trauma imposed on him from generational curses. Intangible desires sprinkle on the waves standing, holding hands with my future.