When my daughter died,
I could have
frozen up inside;
it was a close shave.

Instead I was saved
by my daughters
who went on living; braved

by their laughter

I am living after
the loss of love.
Now that the broken raft her
body was proves

her spirit has moved
to the life that’s best,

it’s the memories grooved
inside of me I miss:

how her perfect fist
fit in my hand,
the happy face I kissed
while I was her dad.