My Father’s Ash in this Trinket Heart
O Father—as ash, sealed in this trinket.
You hang from my neck, bound in quiet steel.
Must I speak to you now, a heart of dust,
When once you held me in your living arms?
You sit silent inside this chain’s cold clasp,
A ghost cradled in metal, heavy breath.
What can you tell me from within these walls?
Do you remember me as—weight of days?
I speak to this ash yet gone you’ve become,
Still, your laughter echoes far from the grave.
Are you the man remembered, or faded—
like smoke into the sky, unseen but here?
Tell me, Father, how do I keep this heart?
Were you ever close, or are you still lost?
As I hold this trinket, you rest in hand,
But you, your voice—still I never knew you.
Now you’re scattered, somewhere beyond my grasp.
WoPoLi 
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