Father Mine

Written after receiving a phone call from my father.

you called today, father mine,
i heard your voice but not the words,
the weak and haggard tone--
    it nearly broke my heart--
to hear you speak as if life had defeated
    You.
You who could fix anything,
    build marvels from tools of simplicity.
You who could envision what would be
    when others saw only wooden beams.

where has your Pride gone?
where does your Dignity hide?
do you remember those days
when you took pride in home. . .
    in family. . .
has your pride--what i thought was
    Forever yours--
deserted you as well?

I remember your steely, blue-gray eyes,
rough and calloused and often bandaged hands,
your quick smile and witty remarks.
are these gone also?
you voice--it . . . it sounds so frail. so fragile.
is this what rock bottom is?

the fall of a man from his pinnacle
to the deepest abyss of solitude.
father mine: it breaks my heart to hear you speak.
Breaks my heart again and again
    and again and again.
just as you so often broke my heart
before you fell so far.