I write this to my daughter
by robert martinI left a little girl for the first time at her dorm with things unsaid,
and as I drove off knew the parting was unfinished,
for our hearts had announced it, Twisting me inside,
and my tears spoke the mystery of it,
Spoke of things sacred,
and I felt like something was being torn,
crudely, abruptly off
of that part of my very soul
and that something tugged at my fabric
and that fabric wanted things to be the same
and yearned in a role
that has remained all these years
For I must keep you safe
and I must keep you close
for I must teach you the ways.
I remember your first step as a toddler
as you shakily hold to furniture, cross a room
and I am proud, and exhilarated and frightened
all at the same time,
for nothing could cut my heart
as harm that comes your way,
so I am vigilant and careful
and as you grow watch imperceptibly as my role changes
and I marvel
at what you have become
so beautiful so beautiful and what happened happened
in its own time and would not wait,
but marched as water or wind moves over rock
and somehow even the rock
could not be as before
And I, a not so perfect father,
thought there was time for practice,
time to become and stop and say
This is my daughter. The person I am so proud of --
Who I love so much
and that there is not one thing she can do
that would make me love her more.
Nor is there one thing that she can do
that would make me love her less.
And she would know this because I would say it often.
So I thought I would have time to say these things
as you were passing in my life
but it all comes unannounced,
unexpected quickly so I try to hold
what can not be held
shimmers as it passes
ethereal in its beauty ever-changing constant
I watch and marvel at how divinity unfolds
and becomes and do not notice that your time with us
had passed without the proper words to reveal my heart.
Not just at this moment but in all the moments from your birth
I should have been a better father to you.
I regret all those times in your passing
I have not said in a thousand ways what a joy you have been,
and too much I have told you
what was done
was not as,
I would have done,
When all the time your time with us would not sit still
and I never noticed how beautiful you had become
so I say those things now what I have left unsaid
so that you will know with my words
what my heart has always been,
and how it is I
who has had the privilege
to know you as a child,
now cry at this passing.
So parting that night
unfinished you ride your bike
to our hotel, limp
the rain kisses your scattered spirit,
and spins a trail of gossamer fabric
that collects at our door.
Your mother and I,
We kiss you and set you free.
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It was one of those life transitions that you read about, but are always surprised when it comes.