For my Father - c-



For you, my father,
Now lost to the marsh of time,
Lost in the distance of
my childhood-
and beyond

You, the first poet I knew-
who told me I looked
ancient
for all my travail
when you saw me last
at my sister's wedding

Blue-eyed crisp
You always engaged
philosophical debate
across the glass dining table
to sharpen the intellect
of your daughters,
but rarely said the words
we longed to hear,
or gave the hug
we would have treasured-
The warmth was absent
but we knew you always cared...

Father dear, provider and mentor
you were and
wherever you are
in this chilly atmosphere
I engage you now,
remembering
the camaraderie we shared
those early morning breakfasts
one on one
bumping along in the big white van,
when you employed your daughter
in your cleaning plant
as helpmate and friend.

I never learned to clean
well, as mother did-
nor did I care to.

And tho I know I disappointed
in my wild youth run to freedom
from the bounds of conventionality
Yet I think by now -
though disowned
as I realized late-
I think by am by now 
I am surely forgiven;
But I do regret you had not the give
to be an influence on my children-
more importantly,
simple because I lived elsewhere,
and that the wisdom m of our home
I was not fully able to appreciate.
Nor were my children able to know you.

But to this day I offer
a belated thankfulness
for what I received of your
artistic legacy
and practice in my life:
the ways of the silent heart
ever strumming,
imparted through those Austrian eyes
that cared more than you knew
how to say
and have never veered--
though you are long gone-
from your sharp, observant ways-

I carry on your banner
your youngest offspring
now the last of our familyi-
of truthfulness and inner quest,
caring as you did for those
heads of clay,]
by painting with words
as you did-
those fiddlers on the roof-
who probably enchant you still...

God Bless you Papa,
wherever you are
and I hope you feel some pride in
me....

Phoebe




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