A Father's Heart

How like broken glass,
a father's heart, a father's love
ground underfoot until it has
turned into shards, turned into dust,
leaving only gritty remains
blown into the eyes of
unsuspecting strangers.

How like a hummingbird wing,
the laughter of children,
the patter of small feet,
beating as fiercely as
a father's heart
as they run away with time
in a thousand different directions,
leaving only empty spaces
inside a life once filled
with only their concerns.

How like a sacred story,
the tears of the father
whose prodigal son goes seeking
in a world of wrong turns and vices,
whose only daughter goes weeping
in a world that holds no new surprises
for a parent who has contended with
all of its evil and tempting ways.

A father's heart,
a father's love,
as certain as the morning sun,
still as vanquished as the light
by every certain turn
of the world on its axis,
by every passing of the day
into ever encroaching night.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012