Father Walked Briskly

by CWK

We saw the moonlight on the water,

and I contrasted it with the black gondola’s

darting about

like water goblins.

Father stalked wistfully

as I struggled to breathe,

and with a wave of the hand,

turned the fumes into clear clean air.

Father walked briskly,

at a pace too fast;

he walked without pausing:

without seeming mercy.

Seeming – I say – for mercy stayed

in his fingertips.

My dreams, he dreamed before

I was born.

My future, he spoke

with expectancy and hope.

He never scorned

my wild zeals,

but ever nurtured, ever healed.

My Father: by him, I first survived,

then grew strong; aye, thrived.

Sometimes I fell --

one time fell farther.

At last, I revived, to climb the Adelsberg

in the broiling sun.

Refined gentle man that he was:

the thought of him now and always

has been a sense of comfort.

I could breathe;

I could sleep

when he had me in his arms

beneath the white front porch

upon a rusty swing.

Like a child I was, and am,
when near father --
even when again and again --
near his memory.
His future memory of me
comes back to haunt and hope:
Man, Servant, King, Leader, Doer
of deeds of note.
Father remembered me as a Man
when I was still a boy;
he remembered, and his memories
are joy.

My Father:

he got me breath;

he got me lungs,

and strength and life.