My Father’s Eyes
A free verse poem
My small body strained away from yours
in the black and white photograph
of us under the willow tree by the lake.
It might have been then
my confused heart,
making a child’s sense of things,
already felt the searing coldness
of your eclipsed sun.
There must have been a time when
I saw your blue eyes as beautiful,
saw in them the vast sky
and boundless sea.
There must have been a time
when your arms held me close
and I felt them cradle me with tenderness,
felt safe, like nothing could harm me.
In my recurring dream
there is always a bridge above dark water —
high and daunting, maze-like.
I’m afraid —
I rely on my wits to guide me across,
your instructions proving useless.
The winter moon moves slowly
across the framed skylight,
and I find myself wishing you had realized,
my blue eyes were not the same shade as yours,
that I was not the one to feed your hungry heart.
And I wonder if you too never remembered
your father’s eyes were once beautiful.
This poem is an off-shoot of a poem I published several months ago in Scribe, titled, Letter To My Father.
Thanks for reading! It feels good to be back after a long absence.
