Trying To Walk In Beauty

The last time I saw my father, he was sitting beneath a tree. He looked so forlorn, perhaps deep in thought. Solitude surrounding him, perhaps seeking peace. He looked at me as I walked by on my way back to my house. I had been sick that day and my mom told me to walk over to the ceremony to eat later on in the day after I got some rest. I looked at my father and I kept right on walking. He didn’t say anything to me. I didn’t say anything to him. He was the adult and I was just the kid. You wouldn’t have known we were related. He didn’t know me and I didn’t know him. He just sat there, beneath that damn tree!