On the 15th of June 1965
towards dusk, it was, as I sat by
my Father's death bed in a Veterans Hospital
barely in Washington
My dad and I hadn't been particularly close
for nine cold years
and now his illness drew to a close

I was 15 years old and in trauma
My Father's head lay soft on propped pillows
and in a weak voice and glassy eyes
he sought contact with my own eyes
which were swelled
with emotion
He looked up and said with a faint smile,
"You Are A Good Boy"

The tears streamed down my face and my
body shook in spasms and tremors
my Inner Voice exploded with a
"Hooray, I've got my father back!"
Happiness, strength, and joy came in a rush
I managed a smile and I tried to say a
few words, but I couldn't shatter
my charged silence much

Visiting Time soon elapsed
and now to go home
crosstown...
My Cousin who was really more like an elder
son to my father, and a surrogate father to me
since diaper days
drove me home. all the while I was sobbing
He tried to talk with me about practical things -
about my future and more, but I couldn't
listen...and I couldn't describe for him
what had happened in the hospital room

I kept thinking about how the lighting had
bathed my father
through a dark wood (Rock Creek Park)
his VW bug pumped
forward
You remember every moment
at a time like this,
and in a car like that, every gear shift.
We jumped and
jolted through the pitch black forest.

And it still feels like every second is
etched on my soul
The next day there was Spring storm weather.
In the later part of the afternoon
the telephone rang, loud and threatening.
And I knew that a new chapter
in my life had been launched,
marked the 16th
of June...

the apache kid