You gave me my first telescope
yet never felt the full shadow
of a solar eclipse.

But if you’d lived to a hundred
and ten, one would’ve come to you,
as I did, a pilgrimage to your grave
in the path of totality.

You kept a database of all my relatives
on hand-typed index cards sorted
in second-hand library card catalogs,
begetting my love of genealogy.

And though you never visited
the archives of Scotland, you carried
me there, your world wandering grandson.

You are the giant
upon whose shoulders
I now stand.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt, Pilgrimage, and NaPoWriMo Day 29 Prompt, use a word from Taylor Swift‘s new album, The Tortured Poet Department, as your title.