Our silly conversation is a note to the universe,
eons of fantastic machinations have come down
to bad jokes and Father-Daughter laughter.
I need to stop feeding bitterness and despair,
so I study our moments together
pulling them into my heart
resting them in the soft soil I keep just for you.
Fathers don’t talk about the way daughters feed them light
from their fingertips
like web weavers.
We don’t want to people to know that picturing them softens us,
lets us breath again when the world is full of suffocating expectations.
When I’m afraid or too lonely
I picture your face outside in the woods
staring up at the light as your thoughts drift away.
I know everything will be OK
because this moment of you exists somewhere in all that is.
I don’t need to be able to visit you,
just know that we were both here together
in the strange, silly moments we make,
effortlessly being.
