I held love

I don’t have to be that Dad

your tiny fingers danced in the dark
I held your foot in the palm of my hand
body curled up in mine
I stayed still
I held my breath
and listened

I look back now
and see Us there
warm bottle
rocking chair
slowly swaying into sleep

I think of the all times we fought
the things we said
the Beings we’re not
biting, scratching, clawing mad
I don’t have to be that Dad
the future not yet set in stone
a lesson learned before we’ve grown

your tiny fingers dancing in the dark
I hold your foot in the palm of my hand
body curled up in mine
I stay still
I hold my breath
and I promise not to forget
to bite my breath
and listen

Heart 1

 

Originally posted here.

Old Man Strength

Don’t take shortcuts.

I like lifting heavy things.

The gym, you can find me there.

Lots of weight.

Every day.

Warm up. Push weight. Cool down.

Eat. Consume.

Warm up. Push weight. Cool down.

The rhythm builds strength.

 

Old man strength. That’s what I call it. That’s what I want. The fathers, they have this ridiculous strength. They can lift more weight. They can outwrestle. Outlast. I work hard and hope

Warm up. Push weight. Cool down.

I’ll get it.

Warm up. Push weight. Cool down.

Eat. Consume.

Warm up. Push weight. Cool down.

 

Don’t take shortcuts.

 

I like lifting heavy things.

The home, you can find me there.

Lots of weight.

Every day.

Dirty diapers. Do dishes. Bedtime.

Feed. Give.

Dirty diapers. Do dishes. Bedtime.

The rhythm builds strength.

 

Fatherhood, that’s what I call it. I do the things that need to be done. I don’t like doing all of them, necessarily. But my disliking is subordinate to the strength of my purpose.

 

I must lift more weight. Survive. Work hard and hope

Dirty diapers. Do dishes. Bedtime.

I’ll make it.

Dirty diapers. Do dishes. Bedtime.

Feed. Give.

Dirty diapers. Do dishes. Bedtime.

 

There are no shortcuts.

Warm up. Push weight. Cool down.

Lots of weight.

Dirty diapers. Do dishes. Bedtime.

Every day.

Giving yields the greatest gains.

I am the strength of my purpose.

 

I am you

What we are

I am you

There is no me

I am.

You hear me,

And I speak.

You feel me,

And I am here.

You see me,

And I am.

It’s black. Filtered light. Grey. White. The lungs expand, sucking in air. I become alive. The eyes open, taking in the light. I become aware. The neurons fire, recognizing my bedroom. I become human.

I am not I, I am you.

I look toward my wife and become a husband. I hear my children waking and become a father. I build my house as I walk down the stairs. I take it on. I become. I am.

Only without you, I do not exist.

I get into my truck and become a driver. I am not a driver, I am the driver, the one. I are many.

I participate in labor and become a worker. I am. Maybe you know. If people listen, I am called their boss. If people do not listen, they are called my boss. But I am.

If I are you, then we are we, and the table turns on its head. The upside down place. We are here right now, you and I, I and I, we. The mirror lies because it only shows us what we want to see. Go and look. See.

What belongs to I belongs to we. Shared. The language means something. Our lives mean something. But alone I mean nothing. As a we our lives mean everything.

So share. Be kind. Share. Respect. Help.

Because when you do it, you’re doing it for you.

Not because I am I.

But because I am you.