My Fatherís Ghost in Angled Light
My fatherís ghost in angled light,
In moons of southward facing dawn,
In ever changing oceanís form,
In single columnís broken crowns.
His death in other worldly night
Had taken him to foreign times,
A partial form of ravensí soul
But eyes that still held crystal spark.
My fatherís ghost in wayward clouds,
That shone with silver waterís weight,
And broke the moon in fourteen shapes
That fell to earth in silent drops.
His ashes crashed in tattered waves,
That stole like undertakerís breath,
In every corner without hope,
Of coming dawn or brighter sight.
My fatherís ghost in all that stood
In those who sought to take away,
This single vision left to me,
My fatherís ghost in angled light.