Sailing to My Grandfather
by Michael R. Burch
for George Edwin Hurt Sr.
This distance between us
—this vast sea
of remembrance—
is no hindrance,
no enemy.
......
The heron makes a cross
flying low over the marsh.
Its heart is an old compass
pointing off in four directions.
It drags the world along,
the world it becomes.
My face surfaces in the green
beveled glass above the washstand.
My handprint in thick black powder
......
My papaw died twenty-five years ago today.
It's been a quarter of a century since he passed away.
When he took a new medication, he became sick.
When Papaw took it, he turned out to be allergic.
If it hadn't been for Papaw, I wouldn't exist.
He died a long time ago and he's still missed.
(Dedicated to Burley Johnson who died on August 3, 1994.)
Walking home I feel a presence following
and realize he is always there
that Native man with coal-black-hair who is
my grandfather. In my first memories
he is present, mostly wordless,
resident in the house where I was born.
My mother shows him the cleft in my chin
identical to his. I am swaddled
and blinking in the kitchen light. So
we are introduced. We never part.
......
His name was, in fact, March Holman-
The man who was last head of the clan!
The second husband of Miss Ida Fields;
My stepgrandfather sure as redbird trills!
Both generations called him by one name,
Day is the same from dawn to sunset flame.
Grandparents were Mister and Miss to us-
Quaint backwoods custom had dictated thus.
......
Sailing to My Grandfather
by Michael R. Burch
for George Edwin Hurt Sr.
This distance between us
—this vast sea
of remembrance—
is no hindrance,
no enemy.
......
Grandfather...
Will you play with me today...
Will you take me fishing...
Will you show me your way...
Will you tell me the difference
Between a crane and a loon...
Where’s your best fishing spot
At the Audubon Park lagoon...
......
His name was, in fact, March Holman-
The man who was last head of the clan!
The second husband of Miss Ida Fields;
My stepgrandfather sure as redbird trills!
Both generations called him by one name,
Day is the same from dawn to sunset flame.
Grandparents were Mister and Miss to us-
Quaint backwoods custom had dictated thus.
......
My papaw died twenty-five years ago today.
It's been a quarter of a century since he passed away.
When he took a new medication, he became sick.
When Papaw took it, he turned out to be allergic.
If it hadn't been for Papaw, I wouldn't exist.
He died a long time ago and he's still missed.
(Dedicated to Burley Johnson who died on August 3, 1994.)
Walking home I feel a presence following
and realize he is always there
that Native man with coal-black-hair who is
my grandfather. In my first memories
he is present, mostly wordless,
resident in the house where I was born.
My mother shows him the cleft in my chin
identical to his. I am swaddled
and blinking in the kitchen light. So
we are introduced. We never part.
......