It was such a long time ago
I was still  a young boy.
My father seemed permanent
hiding from me his fragile mortality.
I did not know we were so poor then.
Always feeling warm and safe near him.
The world was to become
more dangerous than usual.
Especially for blacks in the south.
Darkness hung from the sky
like spiders webs.
Noises that came in the dark
from bogymen and monsters in the closet
Kept my father from sleep that night
The white pointed hoods  of the
Klansmen on horseback passed by our home.
i felt the horses hooves vibrate.
I knew then he may not always have the power
to make the ghost go away.

I remember a few years later
in the jungles of Nam
Lay on my belly in the undergrowth
I heard each crackle of gunfire
the endless noise of the
nights jungle chatter.
My trigger finger on guard
sleepless and in absolute silence.
I learned then that my father’s lessons
were alive in me.
And that in such bad places
a boy needs his father with him.