A new poem for Father’s Day.
Da. Da
A-Ba
you our first attempts
at speech
you our desire
to reach up
in words and in words
speak worlds
into being.Daddy?
A question too often
with no reply
speaking into absence
empty rooms
closed doors or
nailed-down lids.The heavy cloak
each prodigal is given
a hand-me-down that fits none
says in stern voice
‘now you try, my boy
now that you have
your own son.’A task so tough
even God fucked it up
and Jacob and Noah too
and my father’s father
and his father’s father
and me and my father too.But, Da-da, and A-ba
from first words
and first attempts
at building worlds
we try, my son
we try to reach down
speechless and take
our turn to be this
for you, until you too
will have to be that
for yours, in time
for a time
be that for yours too.(c) KB 2013