Turn every timepiece back
to 5 minutes before.
Fix every star in place
and close up all the doors.
Put away the ticking objects;
cover the sundials and the charts.
Hold back the tide and tie up the wind;
let nothing stir or start.
Halt all the moving shadows
and pin them on each window sill.
Rob every measured minute
to make this place stand still.
Prepare with him the table,
and when all is arranged and done,
spread out the memory boxes
and open every one.
From across the now worn surface,
from across this field of time,
from across his unfolding story
that lays across the markers of mine;
From the medley of past remembrance
spreading out before our hands,
let these echoes and images rise up;
take us back to where it all began.
In this moment of return,
in this field of yesterday,
I will carry him high on my shoulders,
while all time and haste give way.
I will read him untold stories;
I will sing him unsung songs;
recite once forgotten poetry;
paint masterworks undrawn,
and on ancient mariners maps
show him where he will always belong.
I will show him faded photographs
from original cardboard boxes,
that mark times passing glimpses
in picture frames and lockets;
penciled notations of heritage
and engraved family pocket watches.
Then reveal the gentle wisdom
my father placed in me,
for such a time and calling
on such a journey’s eve.
Of kindred bonds and pledges
woven deep within the core
of a tapestry of legacies,
lying on this threshold floor,
pointing to our place within it,
just inside the outer door.
All this to fill his pockets
with all that matters most,
pausing at this gateway,
to guide and hold him close.
Prepare for him now this journey
with maps and almanacs,
and among all such provisions,
one map to lead him back.
Commit to memory his fingerprints;
know by heart the sound of his steps;
standing with him on this tapestry
of then and now and next.
Hold him still one minute longer;
hold him close one minute more,
while the world speeds ever faster
just outside the outer door.
Reach deep across the years;
find him here in this embrace,
where he always was and will be,
and bring him home again to this place.
Then open again the shutters;
swing wide the outer door;
pin wings to every footstep,
and standing on the threshold floor,
lay my arms across his shoulders,
and kiss his cheek once more.
Let every moment speak,
rising up through all the years;
leave nothing left unsaid;
tell him everything that’s dear,
till all I am goes with him,
and all he is stays here.