ode to fathers

This golf photo is for my dad—a sport he loved. Who would I be if it weren’t for my beloved father? We didn't agree about his mother but my formative years were spent in her loving, protective care. 

His siblings were fingerposts on which I relied—especially his sisters, one for whom I am named, and the other is the inspiration for eu2be, my aunt Eugenia. 

A father’s power is sometimes quiet, but no less pivotal. It always has an impact, notably on our confidence and independence. Fathers reinforce our idea of what we are capable of and I owe mine a debt of gratitude. 

So I want to share a few words that honor the true weight of a father's care and unmistakable influence in our lives. Here’s to the quiet strength they leave behind.

Ode to Fathers

These are the men who raised us—
some whose blood matched our blood; some
whose did not. These are the men
who sang us songs that echoed
from the depths of their hearts.

Some of these men lived with us—
And some loved us from across the miles.
These are the men who stay awake for us,
metaphorically and actually.
They wait by the phone and cannot sleep
until they know we are safe.

These are the men who dared to cook and dance,
who earned their way through honest toil,
proving their merit by shaping decent human beings,
shepherding our good long before we were born.

These are the men who soften.
The men who lifted us towards shelves and stars
we longed for but could not reach.

The men who are stories we learn about, embrace,
and steady ourselves on.
The men who are woodsmoke, rising, wafting, lingering,
the scent still on our skin as we make our way onward.