our father

he remembers his father speaking to him.  always hidden. but vulnerable in a sense you wouldn't expect to be possible, while also masked.

"this is the shadow" he would say, referring to something there, off from us in the distance, casting a subtle darkness our way. 

"this is the shadow, and wonderful it shall prove to be."
always he said this as if sitting in a rocking chair. and at times he was.  always steeped in the somber thoughtfulness that provoked our father to speak directly in our eyes.

it was not an evil darkness.  our father did not believe in evil.  he did not believe he should waste his time with such things.  he only believed in sight and blindness.  in those that notice the darkness and anticipate the light, and those that don't.  blindness was much worse than evil. 

the darkness was in days before a hurricane and days before a woman gave birth.  the darkness was the same in those things and like i'm saying, the darkness was not evil.

"the dark don't give quality to the light or the other way 'round," our father'd say, "that's why they chase each other so."

those that heard our father easy should probably sit in company with him on that porch.
it was a big porch.