My father, Papa Jean we call him...

My father, Papa Jean we call him, is getting older in his years. I have had the opportunity to take care of him over the past year. It has not been easy to watch his decline in health. He has always been an allegory to me. This writing is for him;


Pour Mon Papa, Jean Ulysse Vergnes
(a contemporary sonnet)

An allegory if there was one–ever...
He would often say; ‘...you cannot kill a mountain...’
My Papa Jean, I’m sure, never hugged me in life,
not, once.
Papa wrapped himself, never, around me–his arms wide.
Though he held me always tight, in esteem
and respect–his hug always,
an allusive one... yet felt.
We would greet each day
with words that fall short... so far–my love for him.
In the french way a kiss on both sides
of his visage; that was our way
to say– bonjour&bon nuit.
So do I miss his illusive, allegory-like never hugs...