My Father's Blessing

Lavender washes over me

elixir of Mediterranean fragrance

on skin seared by the heat of your death

flaking, sloughing cells

too heavy to be worn in mourning.


When we buried you that day

under sky of cerulean blue

and the air across the clover field

competed with juniper and sage,

it was then I remembered

the purple flower spikes dancing

amid silver-grey evergreen foliage,

not because you were there

but because you could have been.


Once you gave me your blessing:

I hope you find what you're looking for.

I set out across the Rockies

dumbstruck and blind like a deer

in midnight headlights. I tried sheltering

where monkey flowers thrive

near the source of craggy mountain springs.

I sought sustenance where

chaff of corn and wheat escaped

stem and stalk in aimless abandon,

wandering in dry prairie wind.


Now the vagaries of city

and the heat of day

push up through sidewalk cracks

with the odor of something

begging for green

and the soothing oil of lavender.