My Father’s Son

I never knew

my father’s son.

Even though

I met him once,

or maybe twice, 

I never knew him.

And then I met

his son. 

Caught him 

miraculously

in a net.

Held on to him 

tightly.

And, I found

that he hadn’t left early,

my father’s son.

He’d waited for me,

wondering,

for a long time.

And so I found him,

my father’s son.

When he was 

just ninety six,

I found him.

But I was too late

to know him.

At ninety five,

he was already dead.

So I never knew him,

my father’s son.

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