Voices on the Wind
Voices from Home
As dads do
by Lars Samson
Forgiveness can die without being asked for withering
from lack of realization and caring. Any offered, falling
unsewn on concrete.
Your three-year-old face peeks from inside
this twenty-fifth edition reminding me of tiny head
nudging against my lonely hour caress. Palms
nightly cupping your growing crown calming
dream storms to a sigh breeze.
Your gatling words jerk from a skull grown
to lose voices and echoes you talk over. So many
lost days we could have listened together, comforted
myths and mistakes, and learned touch
as more than sleight of hand.
Ive waited six years and will continue as long
as dads do for you to find the piece of heart
I planted in yours. Memories will keep
forgiveness blooming until you
catch its fragrance.