Allen, the war is over. And your aunt is speaking to my sister, in that great beyond. Perhaps even God is in attendance.
Allen, does your universe feel wide enough within his arms? Does Lucien breathe truth into your ear, or do you just wish that it were that way? Allen, I used to pray that you would wrap your arms around me and tell me a single beautiful thing. I used to wish that you would show me the way through this world when the lights were off.
For like all sad people and lovers, I am a poet. And you are my father, hands reaching towards a universe that will not yield, hands reaching towards me.
Say yes, Allen. Say yes, anyway.
Colombia is so near the both of us, and I am not old enough to stop believing. Please, Allen.
There is still so much more to be said.
Ian Powell-Palm is a writer, poet, and musician currently living in Bozeman, Montana. You can find out more about his poetry and his future readings at his Facebook page, Powell-Palm Poetry.