Father’s Day Poem

Ever since I became a father, it seems like only poetry can help me understand what that means. I wrote this in 2017 when my son was 1 year old.

He is here!
He
is here.

But
words are

a wall of marbles
a mist
a misshapen box
an equation in crayon

straining
streching
to tell of
the days
the months
I learned this new love.

A love
like my arm, like
a mirror
a pearl
a nation
a droplet.

Two bright eyes
a glance, a stare,
ragged hair,
over his ears

knees, round
legs
and probing
kiss
touches
on the whiskers
of
my chin.

His
Smiles,
Important as
Centuries.

Fleeting,
broad,
sly,
joyous,
thousands
millions
of smiles
move
into me,
ache,
are forgotten.

He is here!
He is,
he Is.

He was Not
and now
He Is.
He
is here
and
so
are We.