My Father
Chi Tran
Your callused hands caress
a long lock of pitch black hair,
tucking it behind my ear.
A small smile idles at the corners
of your lips. You take care
not to cast your eyes down,
but I know you’ve labored long.
You grab me, launching me
into God’s endlessly open blue arms
and for a moment, you take a deep breath
and you fly with me.
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