While life rolls out its laughter
unhindered by ill-fated undercurrents,
You are no more.

I could have called you father
if distance would not have twisted our tongues
to make them unintelligible.

But every father must be a son once.
I tried to remember, while you
scattered your memories in the wind of hope.

We left rancour behind for every man seeks peace,
however, whichever, whenever.
But now you are no more.

I did seek to forgive, as you sought to forget.
We tried from a new start,
as beneath, the pain churned exhaustingly slow.

Now you are no more, but I am,
and I need to remember that I am called father,
for son, I will be called no more

If peace is what you sought,
I pray, peace is what you found,
for the meaning of no more I still don’t understand.