Son of a Preacher Man - Sam Aureli

My father loomed largeat the table-head.
The devout leaned in,
faces lit with expectation,
hungry for fragments of the infinite.
They loved him,
as if he were the sky.
 
Eyes lit with wine
and the thrill of debate,
he sifted truths like sand,
lifting veils only he claimed to see,
a gravity none could resist.
They basked, dazzled,
as though his voice alone
could bend the stars.
 
But I, a stray comet,
veered from his bright path.
The man who preached light
left none at home.
His voice shook the rafters,
and shadowed our rooms.
 
I wanted, just once,
his hand to rest on me,
his words a quiet flame,
as if I, too,
were worthy of his warmth.
 
My doubts drifted
across his desk,
stars without names,
and I learned to watch them
burn out alone.

​
Sam Aureli is a design and construction professional based in Boston, by way of Italy. By day, he’s deep in the world of concrete, steel, and big ideas. But when the hard hat comes off, he turns to poetry. Sam found his way to writing later in life, drawn to it as a kind of refuge, a quiet space to listen more closely to what the world is really saying. His poems have appeared, or are forthcoming, in The Atlanta Review, Humana Obscura, Underscore Magazine, Prosetrics The Magazine, Stanchion Magazine, Crow & Cross Keys, among other literary journals.