I was a child
\nwhen the Whistle Wing
\nemerged from the dark,
\nlashed by rain,
\nmy father\u2019s eyes black,
\nlassoing the pier.
\nThe white canvas
\nof the main mast trembling
\nand the boat pounding
\nagainst the wharf.
\nMy father had escaped the squall
\nthat ravaged the bay.
\nThese storms were famous
\nfor their deadly incarnations.
\nLake Erie and its bay
\nconsidered among the most
\ndangerous bodies of water
\non the planet, spared few
\ncaught by these hurricanes.<\/p>\n
The survival of my father
\nconfirmed my belief
\nthat Providence held him
\nin special regard.
\nThat he was baptized
\nby the miraculous.
\nThat unlike other men
\nhe was special.
\nIn my boy\u2019s heart
\nI knew such things existed.
\nTo me
\nas tears mixed with rain,
\nhe was an odyssey,
\na Greek who lived
\nin the shadows of Gods and poets.
\nMy father had a charm
\nthat left people calm,
\nignited a glow in them
\nthat was intoxicating.
\nEven the inanimate
\nwas not immune to him.<\/p>\n
The Whistle Wing,
\nthe most beautiful sail
\non the bay,
\nresponded as if possessed by him.<\/p>\n
It moved through the swash
\nas if a wizard were at the tiller,
\nand I knew,
\nas I returned to that night
\nover the years,
\nthe human soul can be immense
\nin the spirit of some.
\nIt could command a boat
\nto cross the River Styx,
\ndefy Hades,
\nor look into the eyes
\nof a terrified boy,
\nshow him how to laugh
\nin a short burst,
\nthe way he swallowed
\nraw whiskey,
\nand grinned,
\nraising his glass to Death.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I was a child when the Whistle Wing emerged from the dark, lashed by rain, my father\u2019s eyes black, lassoing the pier. The white canvas…<\/p>\n