Fathers

Not all fathers are those we are born to. The reasons for substituting, replacing, or adding to our list of fathers is as varied as the people who commit the act. I, have had numerous fathers in my life - and for numerous reasons. This poem is about some of the fathers in my existence.

Fathers

Too many thoughts, ideas pour
like the biblical flood into the mind
with no respite. A recipe
for lamb to verify - tomorrow's dinner.
A new sister to consider - A father
crossing the street.

Standing at the railing drinking
the April sun and smoke, an older man,
Father, exited the house opposite my perch.
Silently he crossed, approached,
silently he waved, opened;
a tool chest from the car trunk;
silently crossing back, silently
entering a house with a son.

When I was a young man, child really,
ninth grade, the school system
sent a man to me. Short, chunky
and balding, glasses taped together, smelling -
wheezing - of too much tobacco never seen.

A father to a teacher of mine
two years prior, his charges were those
thought lost - a last resort before we slid
into the void. His children, some saved,
others lost, all taught.

First to explore The Old Man and The Sea
with me. We traveled after reading
to Gloucester. There, watching over the harbor,
he showed me to him. Strong, concerned,
watchful and stern. A colossus of Man cut
of stone shown to me by a father not my own,
there stood the Father of all time.

I have called many father, teacher,
over the years. Most left marks
on my character as a sculptor's chisel
did on that Man by the sea. Mr Guam
no less than any other. Or the father crossing
the street earlier. Left in sun and smoke
with a smile, and a nod.

_{[written 04-12-09]}