Letter to my Son
One day you will hold
all my insufficiencies against me.
They’re buried on the hilltop,
Their names and dates chiseled
worn away by the weather.
One day, you’ll take a rubbing
with charcoal and white paper
to remind me
of all that I’ve tried to forget.
And then, maybe, together
we can bury them in unmarked graves.
Ah, this is so sweet and refreshing.
Thank you. We should all bury our guilt in unmarked graves.