Mercurochrome bandage

 ‘ mercurochrome’s bandage’ Trgates,9/2922024

no one answering the door,
“you know you don’t need to knock.”
walking into where you once 
played, fought, ate with 
brothers and sister,
where the comfort and fear
of Daddy’s hands spoke louder,
where Mother’s guilelessness 
and applause 
gave confidence, yet excused betrayal,
you still look around the corner 
at his empty chair,
and anticipate her litany 
of the marvel of the grandkids. 
“just build my mansion 
next door to Jesus,
and tell my Mother
I’m coming home,”
silly gospel tune
still silly,
yet you understand the sentiment. 
Dad worked seventy plus hours weekly,
Mother worked in the house,
and outside of it,
still there when 
readying for school,
and arriving home —
I once offered to one of my children,
“the joy of parenting 
is found in the opportunity to fail,”
where love’s success 
remembers every
bandage and mercurochrome burn,
and kiss to make it better. 
“Hank’s tunes” are found
in that empty chair today,
her “that’s life,” is just lived. 
and the choirs play on.