Safe Again

Captured in the photograph,
his face as smooth as glass.
His lips still frozen in a smile
from a time long past.

Bound in unseen fetters,
I’m shackled like a slave,
as I try in vain to wake him
from his paper grave.

So I take out the letter,
and read his words in vain.
The smeared and creased
“Be strong, my son”
now bring only pain.

A child can make an airplane
from paper that takes flight.
But these memories stay grounded,
and my heart remains shut tight.

Like a weary swimmer
about to sink beneath the waves,
I try in vain to wake him
from his paper grave.

Angels, carry me to where he’s gone
or take me back to when
my dad was still beside me.
And let me feel safe once again.