The Spear Cuts Through Water

by Simon Jimenez

We were moths to her light. It was the only light we could see.

My last prayer spent in hope that I would find dignity after death.

Fathers leave in all sorts of ways. Some of them leave in the dark. Some leave only in their heads, while their bodies remain, staring at the world around them forever distantly. Others fade out over time, like an old photo rubbed raw. Many, gone in an instant.

They fought because it was the easiest language they spoke.