father
HELINA LI
The sea was relentless cold.
Within his safe vessel, we huddled
in up and down, thrill and terror,
small hands stiff on chattering deck railings.
We were headed somewhere.
He promised he would take us there.
The sea eroded him. We took from him.
Jostled but warm, we opened our hands
reaching expecting demanding and
he gave and gave and gave.
He carved out his insides for us
paid his remaining years to us.
Our small hands grew into metal gloves.
We became pirates on the same sea,
newly grown edges clashing against
wind-hardened, unyielding armor:
in love, we tear each other apart. in love,
we piece each other back together again.
In this war of a thousand years,
we find peace in drifting apart
in circles, always in sight
no longer close enough to touch—
in trusting the other with
our lives but not our thoughts.