To Father: a Revision
Some days
I can’t get up in the morning
can’t force my eyes to open
or persuade my muscles to work.
Some days
I can’t get up in the morning
until you sit on the side
of my stark, white-comforter-covered bed
and jokingly ask me if I’m up.
Some days
I can’t get up in the morning
until my one finger sticks up
and I admit that, yes,
I am, in fact, up.
Some days
I can’t even get up in the morning
until you physically
haul my butt out of bed
landing with a thump and a laugh
on the floor.
You
have
such a light
to you.
And that light has made
that rough and perilous journey
from my
childhood idealistic fantasies
to my
sometimes harsh, teen-years-enhances “realities”
in one
shining
piece.
And I have admiration for
your tenacity
I have admiration for
you perseverance
I have admiration for
your never
letting me
go.
For through these past for years
I have proven to be
something more
than anyone ever thought
I was going
to be.
And by my side you have stuck
through it all
an admirable quality
to say the least
and to say the most
one that makes me love you
even more
than oh-so-very-much.
Some days
I can’t get up in the morning
without having the sound
of your voice
to give me an incentive
to start the day.
Because
those Some days
are the days
when you are one of the
very few
only things
that I know will be there for me
that I know I can look forward to
no matter what.
And,
simply put:
I love you
no matter what.
|