POEMS FOR DISTANT FATHERS (& THEIR ‘SPRING)

 

               Your mother blames the breakfast scramble, late commutes
                why you never "took" to Sunday mass; cat
                sleeping like your father 'til midday. She shows off
                postcards mailed when the carrier drops anchor - 
                her only son leaving family footprints 'cross the globe!
                Handsome, unsmiling in uniform your picture's framed
                for duty in the living room.

                She'd much prefer you
                wear a gentler safer (Ph.d not Sgt.) badge on your chest.  
                She worries: who are these older women showering
                gifts on him? what do they ask in return?
                In the wilderness cries of loss
                & loneliness are not wolves' only.

                The Marine Captain's retirement party must have been
                a blast, though why is he the greatest guy you know?
                (Sometimes the enemy's in camouflage salutes
                or bows; 'the kiss', remember?)

                Always too busy, orifice-overwhelmed: your mother's
                pow! pow! at my hard boiled eggs. Might be true; too late
                to reel you back in. Stay in touch
                   on line is all
                                      for now I ask.
                                                                        -W.W.

 

                  TO A DAUGHTER

                  He never hoped for you, he never not:
                  it was you who gave birth to a father.

                  A baby, you wanted often to play
                  with the only friend you had all day long

                  but the drug of Work would pull him away
                  to a desk, piano, easel or stove.

                  If he felt you were keeping him from other
                  life like salt running out, he might bark

                  Leave me alone, in the anger of fear,
                  and he would feel his voice quiver your spine.

                  But you never stopped running to embrace
                  him, teaching how gratuitous is love.

                  Your father's love for you, shadowed by pain,
                  clouded by duty, was never as free.

                  Yet though you're now 'tall as a lantern post',
                  you still sit on his knee and hug his neck; 

                  but that he once frightened you still frightens him
                  should he snap Leave me alone, meaning now Don't.
                     (from "Fabula Rasa" by Brian Chan)  

                  POEM FOR DISTANT CHILDREN

                  A mother gives
                                           birth a father
                  can only witness,
                                            separated
                  from the fruit of his seed, his only
                  cord of connection (which must also
                  be cut) between soul and soul, mind
                  and mind, heart and heart (for as long
                  as hearts allow), all intangible
                  except the giving witness heart 
                  which still moves and
                                                    can still be touched. 
                       (from "Gift Of Screws" by Brian Chan)