The call of “Daddy!” rings off of the walls
like a lullaby,
that sweet melody of a child’s voice playing a tune straight
into a man’s heart-
few feelings match the power in that single word….
few roles match the importance of it…
few words can describe the joy in it-
a kid’s first hero,
first buddy..
the call of “Daddy” resonates like a hymn,
that sweet melody dancing around the heart
like a symphony,
the word itself carrying the strength of simple
love,
admiration,
and respect-
to love a father is to love the power within-
to love a father is to gain an understanding of who
we are-
to be a father is to kindle a fire within a child’s heart,
a torch to bear through the brightest and darkest of days,
a spark that will ignite the passions of the world-
few feelings match the power in it,
few roles match the importance of it…
few words can describe the joy in it*

Days produce trials,
and trials produce courage-
courage bears perseverance,
and perseverance breeds fortitude-
the theme goes on and on, ad infinitum…
days produce trials, and those challenges
force some to retreat like the low tide
behind the false sanctuary and illusory safety
of bricks and chain links and bars of wrought
iron, and deep within the boundaries of the mind-
monolithic barriers meant for defense,
to deflect the blows given by the dramas of the
world;
walls to forget,
walls erected to give the impression of protection—
walls though, are an obstacle-
their very construction is long and arduous and tedious,
soaking up precious hours and days and years of manpower and energy-
entirely too much thought and time given to such a Sisyphean effort-
building them will not protect, but will
ultimately prevent one from defending themselves
from the storm,
weakened by attrition and starved and blinded of
the truth from living a partitioned life-
walls are obstacles meant to be leapt over at
adventure races,
not shields meant to block the rays of the world,
however warm or cold-
they cannot and should not define you,
cannot and should not control you,
but they will take the wheel when you let them,
and steer you into another dam of their choosing,
thus limiting you time and again-
once in, what gets out?
like an old submarine without the ability to release ballast,
sinking beneath the depths of the sea,
such is the effect of holding it all in…
down you’ll go, no buoyancy left, plummeting
swiftly to a life under the silt of the deep,
unstirred and untouched in the darkness of that
frigid cold-
if you can’t find the key, then find a rock, and if you can’t
find a rock, then use your hands…anything,
to wear the shackles loose from those barricades,
and tear down any obstruction restricting you from
being you and keeping your enthusiasm concealed-
in the film ‘Field of Dreams’, the theme was
“Build it, and they will come”…
with regard to walls, build them, and they
should run-
life will strike with thunder and lightning like
it’s always done…the moment you crouch behind
a bulwark, your days are officially numbered-
the person that emerges will be emaciated
by the effects of living within them-
the person that emerges is often unrecognizable
from the one that entered-
step up to the plate and lead—don’t hide-
days produce trials,
and trials produce courage-
courage bears perseverance,
and perseverance breeds fortitude-
the theme goes on and on, ad infinitum…*

The universe carries my words in a whisper to your
ear each night like a bird delivering its message
high into the stillness-
it fuses my heart to yours each night, an
extra layer of warmth to stave off the chill
like a grandmother’s old patchwork quilt hanging
proudly on a bedroom wall…
my arms drift silently over you like a fog of comfort—
into the bloodstream these words go,
into the spirit, there to blend with the intricacies of the soul-
into the heart they go, through the valves
and chambers…into the mind-
indelible affection injected into you like
a vaccine,
as beautiful as twin red flowers on a kitchen table,
as determined as the bamboo that refuses to quit-
words spoken without speaking, like a daily devotional,
delivered gently into the palm of your hand like lips to
willing skin*

The shadows of noon roll over
me like a tidal wave, you by my side
breathing in the scents of sleep,
while I inhale the last scents of love
emanating from your pores like
steam from a lava field-
farewell, my starlit night,
your skin like velvet against my palm,
eyes like a birdsong on an April morning,
your breath a melody more beautiful than
a symphony of strings…
my skin against yours more fragrant than
a thousand raindrops after the storm-
farewell, my starlit night*

Freckles scattered like the stars amid the
grip of a distant galaxy,
a dimple that wanders in whenever a smile is
cracked-
eyes as warm as a fire lit against the snows of
January,
hair as fragrant as a field of high mountain
wildflowers-
there was a spark in your eyes…
a spark in your spirit that contained the power
to spread like a molten storm on the wind*

I stared out of the window at the old, grand house,
a residence that we’d left only half conquered,
and heard the echo of the pebbles scattered about the old
green trail,
remembered our hushed voices and muffled laughter as we ascended
the staircase with excitement,
heard our footsteps and chatter ringing throughout the
empty streets,
and remembered the long drive that we managed to get
lost on twice-
our names are scribbled into the logbook from days gone
by, smiles written into history with ink made of joy…
the key is waiting in the drawer*

It was in the third grade that my mother tucked a note
into my lunchbox that read “there is no sun out today,
so let the sun shine in your heart”-
big, hefty words for the third grade mind to stew over,
but ones that adhered and clung to my
way of thinking like a persistent weed-
I never forgot those words,
and they have served me well as a warm
reminder tucked into my soul just as that
note was tucked into my old plastic lunch box on that rainy
day, eons ago-
the sun is still there, though oftentimes it can’t be seen
through the clouds on days like today…
you can peer through the clouds and believe,
or you can rest easy in the faith that the sun has
always been, and will forever beat earnestly
within you as long as you have the courage to
take another breath*

You were two years old when you grinned your
way into my life,
the speech of your youth colliding in my ears like
a train wreck-
each jagged sentence required a translation,
your every thought and movement and action
foreign to me and my inexperience-
you’d laugh when I pushed you on the swing,
high into the blue,
the trailing sounds of “whee…” soaring as high
as your dangling feet-
you smiled when I’d make faces at you,
giggled hysterically when I’d tickle you,
and would cry uncontrollably when I carried you
back to bed each night, sleepy eyed and clawing for your
mother’s touch-
“Can I call you Dad?”, you questioned one random day,
one who’d never met or forged a bond with his own,
“Of course”—
and that is what I became, from that day forward,
your sword and shield,
your trailblazer,
your warm embrace,
your bandage for each nick and scrape…
the origin that you never knew,
the rock that you can forever claim as your own-
I am proud of what you’ve become,
and hopeful of what will be-
proud to have provided water for such a
wonderful seed,
one that will grow to reflect the nourishing sunlight
of his environment and the values of the
care received-
where you are, I will always be,
no matter where the tides nudge us-
my rope will always be tethered to you,
my sights ever set on your journeys,
my beaming smile adding light to
your path*

I see you in the blue green palette of the dawn,
awash in the pigment of dreams,
beautifully smoothed like fresh paint
upon a canvas of wrinkled sheets and feather pillows-
the sand of sleep dusts your eyes delicately,
like sugar on a rich confection,
and just as sweet-
I see your face, framed in the light of eternity like a
mounted masterpiece,
there to be viewed in my thoughts and memories
every time I pause to close my eyes*

Peace and guidance, she spoke into the warm
stillness of the afternoon,
late sun glistening gently off of the tilted diamond
nestled snugly in yellow and infused with
the very atoms of love,
pleading its notes of longing and hopes and intent-
“peace and guidance” echoed off of the
walls, entombed in the orange glow
of dusk,
the quiet speaking like a choir in my ears-
I didn’t understand, but
I understood-
days, weeks, years…
all wrapped tightly in a gift of understanding,
so much seen by not seeing,
so much unseen….
so much undone,
so much to be done still,
now that eyes are open to the dawn-
each day will start with a foot planted firmly on the plate-
autopilot can be a terrible thing when you’ve fallen
asleep,
….but peace and guidance upon waking will steer your
course to the horizon-
with no fear in asking the stars boldly for what you desire, for what
you’d fight and die for,
but the courage to accept the will of the universe,
whatever that may be,
accepting it all as is,
for now-
all roads lead to somewhere, and who knows how
they’ll all intersect-
in the end,
faith will take the wheel and the light will lead
the way*