(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole piece!)
 

What My Father Tells Me

a place where trees stood before the war, where his boy hid,
so happy and dreaming, his mouth watering for
a table his mother arranges, a table of feasts for their world
 

Death and Distance

Sometimes, in a crisis, you tend to do things you do not normally do: slip down chutes, climb up on ladders, or tumble along routes you've not taken before. You play as you did when you were a child, remembering when he was alive. Death comes with crisis. A dilemma. A time of trouble, a time of mortal danger, a time in search of meaning. You search for a way out and a way in—to somewhere else, a space where the order and commotion are familiar, a space where ordinary life is restored.