My Father

My Father

A Poem by CourtniRenee
"

is not what they imagine

"

My father is not holy.

He is the scent of rain and dust in

October. He is broken leaves,

calloused hands, and echoing silence.

He is white teeth

glinting through a still brown beard.

Cool touch of mint and cramped

handwriting on yellow lines.

My father sits on a pedestal- he

flings himself from it, but

dirty hands push him up again.

Socks are left on the hardwood floor,

collars are stained with grease but

he is only lifted higher.

I lay in the grass to see him as

he reflects the sun. I miss him when they

crowd around his ivory tower

blocking my view.

Being a father is painful. You must

forgive yourself when children see your faults and

deny them. When

they turn far from stained glass prisons.

Instead I lay in dirt, fill empty spaces.

Sometimes he sneaks out and

joins me. We’re

heathens together. Ankle deep in mud

laughing about the holy.

Laughing about

our flaws.




  



© 2016 CourtniRenee


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This was a moving piece to me. I am a father and I would be honor if my kids wrote something like this about me. Lucky father. N.

Posted 5 Years Ago


CourtniRenee

5 Years Ago

Thank you! My dad is one of my best friends. He is a very complicated person and has always inspired.. read more
-

5 Years Ago

Well, this is a great homage to him. N.

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112 Views
1 Review
Added on July 25, 2016
Last Updated on September 15, 2016
Tags: fathers, daughters, family, relationships, religion

Author

CourtniRenee
CourtniRenee

Springfield , MO



About
If I know nothing else, I know that I am myself, and that is enough for me. more..

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