Song of the Divorced Father

"...I realized that it's inevitable; wounds are part
of what parents give their children."
--Michael Meade

There was a woman poet from Chile who
wrote "sleep close to me" to her small son.
Reading that, I think of you, children, now
so long and substantial, now beyond
my picking up and carrying to bed, now
beyond the reach almost of my arms and my soul.

I remember the night silence and my father-ear
listening for your breathing; the cries and
choking sounds that pulled me from sleep.
I remember the early mornings of sentimental
thoughts as I watched your faces utterly
asleep, and then strange dreams you told
of wolves and weddings and curious caves
full of treasure.

Now I want you to sleep near me, to be
in the house with me, so we can sing together
sometimes, so I can relearn your new voices.
So we can carry the wounds together,
pulling them from the sea, an old boat
we used to fish in -