I watched him
my father
closely
struggle with that stone
he carried.

if we played
I could sometimes see
the weight.
during our games and songs,
so obvious
his hands held hidden.

he loved me
yet went his way
pulled in—
left his burden here.

he chose to leave
while I carry on
with seeds
sifted from stones
not knowing how
this dormant mass might unfurl
toward the light.

09/15/20 for Colin