for my uncle
you died in Africa
just now
almost on Father’s Day
they said it was malaria
your friend called us
I could not sleep
I was howling like a lost dog
howling for you
and your loneliness
back there
you left two sons
behind your life
I wish I could tell you
how lost your son is
and how lost he will be now
I wish I could sit with you
and hear how you laugh
you died and I felt
my own father’s death
someone calling me
from a far country
telling me about the man
that secretly loved me
but wasn’t there
I love your son and he is my blood
my little
almost brother
and I will be there for him
when he asks
and I will be there for him
even when he does not ask
and I know that he won’t
because
he has got your head
your stubbornness
but he also
has your
eyes
me and him
how can we mourn
you
the leaving fathers
that come and go
where does the grief go
where does it fly
if
you were there
but almost
never here.
