My father was a son of the ocean. The Fisher King. Nowhere did he feel better then at sea. He walked into a river on x-mas day in 1987 and his body has never been found. It was a great shock but also one of the greatest sources of learning for me. It woke me up from my sleepwalking and I understood I had invested all my sense of security in him. The day after his disappearance I wrote him this poem.
Your footsteps heavy