This isn’t poetry, but it’s part of the journey I began with 2019 Napowrimo and exploring my relationship with my dad.

I’m leaving soon on a pilgrimage, three days traveling alone to sit at his grave and read my poems and mark a moment of closure? maybe?

It’s an attempt and I am, right now, terrified it will fail.  Terrified that I won’t have the strength to really look into the dark of this.  Terrified that I will liquor up on whiskey and suffering and shut down.  Terrified that it will all be for nothing.  And it occurs to me that even if it is for nothing, I’ll just do it again and again and again until either it becomes less important or more healing.

Slow is smooth and smooth is fast.  One bit at a time, one moment and one breath and one tear.

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