Literary Litany

To my dad..

 

You are the sword and the stone,
the rock and the foundation.
You are the sunshine in the morning sky
and the green upon the fields.
You are the birds in the sky,
and the breeze in the air.

However, you are not the lion in the den,

the hurt and defeated,
or the sting of sad tears.
And you are certainly not the hurt captured by death.
There is just no way that you are the hurt captured by death.

It is possible that you are the wind at the mountaintop,
maybe even the sunset at night,
but you are not even close
to being the hurt and defeated.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither conquerable
nor invincible.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am also the wind at the mountaintop.

I also happen to be the trees on the mountains,
the breeze in the air
and the laughter in the room.

I am also the stars and moon in the nighttime sky

and the sunshine beaming down.
But don't worry, I'm not the rock and the foundation.
You are still the rock and the foundation.
You will always be the rock and the foundation,
not to mention the sword and--somehow—the stone.