I wish I could give you something from that day
you could take back to your clan. There’s nothing
that hasn’t been converted into personal pain.
Your father wasn’t there when I encountered him,
already gone or in the throes of going. What we met
was the force of a car under the spell of momentum:
a ghost steering it into our path. Years have passed
and I keep reliving the furious, slow-motion history.
In a sense what we shared was the truth of impact—
our bodies ringing like bells in a small town
on a Holy day. I haven’t been able to speak of him
until now. Haven’t let myself, out of stubbornness.
How dare he hurt my family so! But I say to you
now, Go forward under your own power. Remember him.