Comes the Dawn - On the Death of My Father

[I killed my Dad in a car accident a few years ago, and spent about an hour pinned under his body, trying to keep from drowning in a ditch full of water.  They finally got me out, and the next few years were legal Hell until I was found not guilty in court of any wrong-doing.  This is about the most coherent thing I've written about it....  I'm kind of a mythology geek!]

I.

Comes the early-born, rosy-fingered dawn
Across a Zeus-fallen, mud-wet road.
Fortune wavering in sorrowed age,
Thumbing a ride bright-eyed
From drink to field.

Comes the early-born, rosy-fingered dawn
In grief and loss and Chthonic terror.
Comes a corpse-sodden son.
Comes the fattening field and drought-
Drenched mind in wine-watered loss.

Comes the early-born, rosy-fingered dawn
And shadows groping
From Eumenides long-balanced memory.

Comes the loom de-threaded.
Comes the father-slayer broken.
Comes Tisiphone in scouring dread,
Casting evil panic upon trusty hope.

Comes the scudding drift.
Comes the split-tongued sorceress's
Bewitching delicate chains;
Glaze-eyed swine queen with blackened
Heart.

Comes Poseidon's lumbering fool.
Comes the wine-black sun.
Comes the early-born, rosy-fingered dawn
Rending its Fury'd talon across forever.

II.
Comes the blackened, chaff-sparked night.
Father-burdened, Nyx-entombed,
Naiad-coupled.
Here climbs a Sisyphean boulder
To water's top-rippled edge
And tumbles again drowning.
Comes the dead and comes the dying.

Comes the blackened, chaff-sparked night.
Comes a lament from father-drowned.
And a father, Charon-bribed
Milling a son in wine-black terror.

Comes a son, father-ground.
And here there is a mill-wheel shattered.
Here a grist-shovelling soldier sneers
And baker kneading for Eumenidean feast.
Here the burning ovens.
Here the crackled loaf.
Here the dough encrusted.

Comes the blackened, chaff-sparked night.
Comes the early-born, rosy-fingered dawn.