I move to the prairie because I have no real father. 
The wind takes my sorrow to the long grasses. 
My violence is placed in the plow. 
This is the energy that digs and plants. 
 
No father, absent father, cruel father.
I will take this to the prairie, the hole in the self, 
the absence, the longing for guidance. 
I give it back to the land, 
package it up like an honor. 
 
The prairie takes it in like a goddess. 
She prepares rain for my harvest.