It was not easy, the drive over
Dallas Divide this morning.
Last night’s snow and rain had left
a smear of snow and slush across the road,
though as it melted, I noticed how
the blue and white were mirrored
on the ice. Sky above and sky below.
It was equal parts lovely and treacherous then,
but this is not why I am writing.
It’s just a prelude to tell you how
I am thinking of the story you told
of your son. How he stole from you,
the shattered glass, how ugly it’s become.
There are days we wish would never arrive,
if we even could call it wishing.
Perhaps it is more an ignorance, or a shoving
future sorrow away. Rather to believe
that good will happen. That the boy,
grown man, will come beside us,
chop and haul and stack the wood.
That we might sit at a feast together
and laugh and share the food and wine
and bread of our daily love. We try,
don’t we, to give our children everything.
How it splits us when the story’s
ending is not happily ever. But we are not
at after yet, though the days are getting shorter.
I don’t know, friend, what I’m trying to say.
That I hear you. That sometimes we can find blue sky
in the most surprising places.
That I wish I could help you pick up
the shards. That it’s hard to be a father.
A poignant meditation in the form of a letter. I like how the drive sponsors the memory, the story of a child’s behavior, but also how the blue of the drive comes back at the end to offer a spot of hope.
I agree with Anon. (the other anon :-))
How fun to have a bouquet of fine anons …
Thanks to both of you. 🙂
Stumbled on this one from years ago…I really like it. It made me just stop…and then I let my heart send out wishes for peace and healing to several dear fathers (and mothers) I know. Love and Namaste my friend.
oh yes, it’s hard! I remember writing this long ago poem. Oh it’s just such difficult and important work, this parenting. Big hugs to you
r