Find your father
and lay him down
and breath upon his
face and hands.
Then turn
and with your eyes
scan to the edge
of land and sky,
of field and child
and dry riverbeds
and the screeching of
a thousand heads.
Then lie yourself
upon the ground
and feel the cool
expanse of stone
This is your resting
place, your tomb.
Encased in walls of
earthen tears and bone.
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This came from a Simply Snickers prompt
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
I wish I could have been there to see my father laid to rest. I never got the chance.
Thank you for writing this.
-Nicole
I visited my Father’s grave a few days ago and left some flowers for Father’s Day. This is my first one without him and it’s really hard!
What imagery . . . for recalling and honoring a father. How difficult Father’s Day can be, once one must miss a beloved father. And how we must count the days that remain together, while we still may have them. What a reminder. Thanks for your beautiful words.
Blessings,
Linda
IN MY FATHER’S FIELD, at Nickers and Ink