“My Father’s Grave”

It’s been a while since I last
Visited my father’s grave. I gazed
Down at the marble stone that bore his

And his mother’s names. If I could
See through the stone and soil,
I would see his casket, and his mother’s

Beneath it. If I could see through
The wooden case, I would see his bones
And his clothes. How long since I last

Held his hand? How long since I last
Pressed it against my forehead? But the
Time which has elapsed since his passing

Did not diminish the vividness of
My memory of the size and roughness
Of his palms. I prayed the rosary and

Wondered whether he, and his mother,
Could hear me. Do words take flight
When they are uttered as prayers?

I saw a flock of sparrows fly over the graves
And perch onto the nearby metal fences.
I bent and touched the slab of stone,

Felt its heat and smoothness, and
With my fingers I traced the slanting
Letters — the “C”, the “U”, the “A”,

The “L”, the “E”, and then the “S” —
And the numbers which represented
The dates of their births and deaths.


8 thoughts on ““My Father’s Grave”

    1. Hello!

      Very sorry for the late reply. I wrote in December, when I visited my Daddy. 🙂

      Do you often go back to the Philippines?

      Thank you so much! Happy new year!


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