for my Dad

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I thought the time between us
was a lot,
i thought he lived forever and had not,
fought all those wars in vain:
for freedom only.
lived all those deaths in vain:
for country only.

I thought the time between us
was a lot,
when I would able be to say
what’s not,
easy to write when said;
to say as written.

To spend a whole small life
and never say
i love you for whatever
i don’t know, I love you
for whatever joins us both.

For measures small of likeness
we are using here,
this unsung hero,
the younger self
between us both.

I thought the time between us
was a lot
but I discover that time is
only measured in betweens:
between the dreams
between the life that seems
between being happy
between the hurting pain
between the searching
and loving once again,
between what’s written and what
life supplied,
the earth the dream the tears,
the deep inside.

Between the time we are
together and are not-
together.

Time is like space
between the people that we love.

I thought the time between us
was a lot
when I could talk,
about what has been before
and what will come.

About what I most fear
and fear a lot,
about what I would do
when time grows old.
about the vertical, the horizontal
space that separates
what we want
what we say
what we feel
what we pray
what we fear,
what’s so dear.

But people go
they leave they
here depart.

No art in death at all
just lonely ground.

And so we are left here
living still as we have done
as we always will,
until.

Here we are left
in moments all alone
moments not in between
uncovered moments
that fill a life time still.

That always miss the
small space in between.

Space like time we’ve spent
with those we love,
beneath the sleepless nights
when we are young.

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