You were a household god,
Not a faraway god in heaven’s vault
But a jovial Jove
Full of life and power.
I sprang from your forehead,
Not fully Athena
But to become Wisdom
And Responsible
And Chosen.
Your ego was Olympian,
Thunderbolts would fly from your fury,
Then all Justice and Mercy.
A bacchanalian god–
Wine flowing as we danced in the kitchen.
I worshiped at your feet
When you lay mortally wounded,
Your life your Achilles heel.
I worship you still
With the laughing spirit you are
Now and forever. Amen.

*** For my dad, John L. Gresham on Fathers Day. This is a poem I wrote after his death in 1994 and the photograph was taken just not a year before with his three sisters. I love this picture of them laughing together, each with such a distinctive voice and laugh. He was the adored baby brother of three sisters and his children adored him as well.

Happy Fathers Day, Daddy. I love and miss you each day.