A Father's Day Poem

FOR MY FATHER

I am a storyteller because of your stories.
Sharing with me the fabric of our family,
characters come to life.
I imagine my grandfather and great grandfather
teaching you how to build train layouts
or how to play stick ball.
A rich history unfolds with each re-telling
of tradition and anecdote.

I may pretend to know each line,
but secretly I want to hear how the story ends
over and over,
until I commit my ancestors to memory –
the kind of knowing that comes
from faces being painted on a wall.

The mystery of life is happening right now,
in this swirl within a salt pond, you said.
We knelt by the edge of this tiny, aquatic universe
and shared a moment of awe for what God creates –
for how small we are in comparison
to the expansiveness of nature.

As I look at my sons,
I wonder what stories I will tell them about you,
to ensure that memory holds the key
to the wonder that is you –
my father.

You take pride in your projects,
regardless of the outcome.
You show me the miracle of small things every day.
Your eyes light up when you see me,
and you still pat me on the head.
I remember how you used to call me,
Little Person.
I still beam and glow.


Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2009
www.FirkinFiction.com