Cir
cuit light on.
My father, penitent on the kitchen floor, searches for his dropped faith under the ruthless luminescence invading his mind. This isn’t true. He sweeps his hands across the tiles searching for crumbs that he thinks have spilled onto the floor. All I can think is that with his head bowed and the warm light that always seems to illuminate memories caressing his skull, this is the first time he has ever looked small to me. His self has become transparent in the past’s light, or perhaps I have simply learnt to read the space between us. light-Light as truth, light as the revealer of truth-my teeth are blinding in darkness, ivory in shadow, and stained in the light; there is color before the light illuminates them and there is color after; all light does is change the tone. --off. I turn, uncomfortable with the feeble creature that has overtaken my father, and face the window, my reflection that can appear distressingly distant some evenings, 26 Pillars of Salt
