Dad

Dad:

I wanna know your dreams,
         The real you.
I wanna know what you felt
         As a boy,
         What you saw when you
         Looked at the Moon.
I wanna know how often
         You hugged your Mother,
         How often you talked to God.
I wanna know from which ship
         Your people came to this land,
         How the branches of your Tree
         Took shape over generations.
I wanna know your side of the story,
         When you saw me say goodbye,
         Where I took the wrong step.
I wanna know if you could ever
                             Forgive me,
         Ever see what I saw.
         If you could see the ropes
         Around my understanding,
         How perfectionism made mediocrity
                             Devastating.
         That disappointment blinded me
                   To the pearl beneath
                   The scratched shell.
And I see me as you…
         Maybe someday…
         Could I someday be there—
         Despite all my visions
                   Of perfection?
         Could I end up stumbling though Life,
         Barely grasping goals
         And being cracked in the head
         With failure and wrong turns?
So I guess I’m starting to see
         The man in the Mom,
         Starting to see the humanity
         In your neglect,
         The root in your fear.
And I picture the boy
         In the red and black cowboy suit,
         The one with wonder in his eyes.
         The skinny, pale little boy
         Whose world was no bigger
         Than a plot on Patterson Drive,
         But with a soul deep enough
         To become a Pioneer,
         To shed the rules of
         Race, gender and religion,
         Who looked society in the face
         And went his own way,
         Who could have so easily
         Collected all the privilege as
                             The Man,
         But chose instead to be
                             The Mom—
         Even to young Brown children
         Who barely shared his features,
         And lived in an entirely different world.
And I’m proud to have this blood
         Running through my own veins,
         Proud to pass on this blood,
         And the Wisdom that came with it.
And I pray—someday
         We’ll know each other again
                   Like when we nestled—together—
                   In the womb of your bed
                   And traveled the Solar System,
         Like when we walked the Moon-lit paths
                   Of Milwood and The Square
                   Sharing our hopes and dreams and fears,
         Like when we strolled every campground—
                   Just the two of us
                   Among rubber band frogs and whispering trees,
                   Beaming flashlight beams
                   On brilliant stars
                   And keeping each other sane,
         That’s when I knew you not only as
                   My Father and my Mother,
                   But also—most truly—
                                       As my best friend.