How does a father miss his children
When his life takes him away from them?

The outward signs are: photographs, old messages from them
Posted everywhere throughout his abode;
The lingering glances on the children of others,
Especially when they return and touch father or mother,
Only to whirl away again to their new outer world.

He restrains his feet and hands
While his heart stretches out toward
The child with that special grace,
That special look and way,
That evokes past times and images.

There is a kind of heaviness around his heart;
There is much protection from some sure knowledge
That things are not quite right,
When such distance prevents
The reassuring physical and visual glancing.

The older children, in or near adulthood,
Are accessible through the devices of the mind.
The younger ones and I require the physical presence;
How sweet the memory of the last visit --
We touched and looked without unnecessary words.

How are they doing?
Do they need me for something right now?
What would we talk about?
What do they need to know of their father,
That faraway figure they tell their friends about?

The joy of living alone cannot fully overcome
The formless pain of separation
From now-hidden processes of growth and change
In my beautiful gifts from God,
These eternally-connected continuances.

But, to ease the ache, I recall
I had the same burden with my older children --
We are now close and loving,
Distance notwithstanding;
We still learn from each other.

But, again, the younger years are so sweet,
So awe-inspiring in their open green-ness.
Perhaps my heart, if not my feet and hands,
Can capture some of this through their photographs
And the look and movement of other children.

Perhaps they will sense my yearning to physically connect.

Perhaps.

---
Homer, Alaska

05/20/1995

Posted on 01/03/2002
Copyright © 2025 Ronald A Pavellas