Animal Instinct

My father prowled

the plains of the Serengeti,

crept stealthily among the vines

of the Borneo jungle.

In those long blacked-out

grand mal moments,

as he lay broken

at the foot of the stairs,

I imagine him striding

proudly over the land,

flinging himself effortlessly

upon the face of Everest.

His life, his legacy

is now how I choose

to remember it.

Whether real or imagined,

I can make of him

what he could not.

And I see his weathered face

gazing up defiantly

at a god who gave him

nothing but pain,

I watch as he smiles

and says out loud,

Is that all you got?