The three of us have never held hands
I often wonder what your hands might feel like
My sweet selfish father, may God keep you
Since, I can no longer
And you mother, with your dark
Thick hair, and perfectly false smile
Leaving it all for me to imagine, and I often do
When I hold my son's hand, or while I clip his nails,
And show him piano chords in the key of C,
Or A-minor
I'm teaching him how to use his hands
When to keep them to himself
How to offer them up to others
Sometimes, while we take our afternoon walks
I gently squeeze his hand once a minute
For every 59 beats of this crippled heart
What you two have left of it
Once a week at sunset
I make certain there's eye contact with my squeezing
Because he always makes sure to smile and shine those
Cobalt-baby-blues right back up at me -- With that inevitable
Child simplified observation of the spaces between him
And whatever comes into his mind
"What's that daddy?"
He chimes in, pointing
"That's our star, our sun little man"
I offer back, gazing west
"What is it doing way over there?”
He stops to tie his shoe, but I finish the knot for him
And straighten up his tongue and then the other one,
Before tugging up his socks, fixing his collar and wiping
The sleep out of his eyes -- He is trying to be serious
And mature, mirroring me -- Three year olds are brave
Enough to attempt anything possible
Imitate anything they wish, or anyone
So I think about my responses these days, very carefully
"It's keeping us warm, breathing, and letting us see."
I concluded
"See what, daddy?"
He asks, urgent & more curious still
But fear & my past set in faster than an asthma attack
On a smog level warning day out in the valley
I feel my chest screw up tight
I have to either sigh, or pop,
And wipe my wild eyes dry
Pull myself back together
But instead my eyes break the levee wide; as I barely
Tremble -- sobbing into a whisper, so as not to frighten him,
Or myself, anymore than necessary, anymore
I learned a million years ago
how to just let some things go.
"To see each other son, in case we forget."
I try to smile, and it half does
"Forget what?"
He states with his new, clear eyes
"What and who we are...
When we know...
That we're loved.”
I whisper, not just to him, but for the two of you also,
Or perhaps, to a God ripped out of me long ago
By hands given to me by the selfishness of strangers
And Parents that can clap for a show, but not dial a phone
"I know who I am daddy"
He says with a skip
"I'm your son, and you're my dad, and that's our sun."
He states (matter of fact)
Then he squeezes my hand
As day shifts to night
Author notes
To My Son Micah
Written January 7th, 2004
In a list
A contest entry
- Hands (contest) by Danna Hobart.
300 points, ended December 15, 2005, 11 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 60 of 60
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I am just now reading this. Excellent! You deserved every inch of that gold! I am on my way to read more of your work.
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I miss the chest squeezing up part. That part got me the most for some reason, and it seemed simpler, more direct before.
Bout time this won. -
This is one of those keepers that you pass along to others and of course your son. I wonder if it makes a good vocal read to an audience. Have you tried that. Seems like it would. RC
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An excellent read that will no doubt part of a legacy for your son.
thanks for sharing.
John -
Damn, I gotta go call my son.
This is a fantastic write. The following line is the most gut wrenching line I read for a good while-
"I'm your son, and you're my dad, and that's our sun."
Damn, I wish I wrote that.
I came here following a link to this as Muddy's fave poem here.
As I am a fan of his work I had to check it out. I really see why he labeled it as such. Thanks for a great read.
Peace, Rob
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Sounds good to me, I made it up. It part my story, and part a lot of other people.
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great write - congratulations - the poem did leave me with questions, but it's probably due to severe adult a.d.d., so i'll have to scan it a few more times but one question, is the once a week at sunset your 'visiting' time with your son after he was awarded to your 'false smile' wife (or ex-wife) ... that's what i was thinking as i read, but again, i have the attention span of a 3 year old myself... i felt the deep sadness throughout along with the desire to share wisdom and wishes with your child - very touching
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Congratulations!
This is a wonderful story, a real tug on the heart strings. Well done.
~Mary O -
wondeful write, had mr tearing up. Well deserving of the gold.
I loved the speakers quite determination in trying to be a better parent then his own. The love, pride and gentleness he feels for his son, as well as his regret and pain, shine vividly through everyline of this poem. Excellent work I would applaud twice if I could. -
Great gold winner here. Congratulations!
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This is the best thing I've read since I came to AP.
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EXCELLENCE AT IT'S BEST!!!!!
a beautiful write, it is so emotional I can barely say what I want to..... However, I can say, that, as it has touched my heart it has been written with the right choice of words to cause the impact it does, a fantastic job here.....
Your friend, Angel
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Bite me
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What, did you read that last week out of a fortune cookie? You're fired.
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Funny how with our hands we can do so much or so little.. Your write showed that Horus.. Don't look back, but into the horizon..
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Thank you for entering this beautiful poem. I must find some Kleenex after reading this.
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this poem of yours is very mysterious...I took this one literally but I still liked it...The descriptiona and the imagery made by it is so vivid...plus, the fusion of story and poem - this is very good!
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Glad to see this one again. I love it. I cry every time.
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now here you have gone and spoiled my image of the flambuoyant, exotic horus8 and created an image of a warm and loving soul....such talent and charisma you have my friend.....of course I must applaud you....well done
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Beautiful!!
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This is beautiful, so full of emotion. The feelings of sadness, loss, love, and hope are all intertwined in this piece, which is so true to life. Wonderful job, a truly lovely piece
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AMAZING!!!
Wow, that was amazing. I loved it SO much, and I almost cried. (I did, I did.) Seriously, I think this WOULD have won, if you had read the contest rules a little more closely. I DID say that a prewrite cannot have been in another contest. Sorry, this was truly beautiful poem, and I absolutely adored it, but I must stick to the rules, sorry. -
What lovely poetry. Such meaning and emotion. I don't think I'll win this contest with writers like you...good luck in the contest!
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Its powerful. Rhythmic, and well crafted. THanks for the intrest in my contest
~MOONZ -
wow. amazing. this is an incredibly beautiful write. thank you so much for entering and sharing this. best of luck to you <33
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It's beautiful! Absolutely gorgeous. I love it x
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beautiful
beautiful write, good luck in this contest, i have enjoyed reading the fine poetry here, it would be very difficult to judge, all are expressions of sincere warmth. -
Speechless, You have left me! These are the feelings I feel as I read your words...the only word to come to mind is PROUD. There are to many feelings coming together when I read this. My children are older and no longer appear to find the time to be as close as that anymore. Please cherish these moments.
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like wearing shoes for the sake of the outfit but knowing that the pavement is warm enough for bare feet. like the sound aglets make when they brush the sidewalk.
thanks so much for entering!
trick -
I'm sorry, come again?
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My father is strait though, I don't know about you.....
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Hey, the first comments sucked. Don't listen to those assholes. This poem is by far the best love poem I've seen so far. It reminds me of my father. Me and him have been through two divorces. He still goes strong today, and tries to make my life better. The style can be worked on though.
Keep writing
Morgan.... -
I think you may have been casting pearls before swine in this comp as this is good writing at its best. Find an intelligent host to a comp and enter this again as it is a very emotive piece that by the comments have already found an audience.
David -
Yes, children are like that, and if you're lucky, they teach you how too see that way again, thank you. We are expecting are second, I was hoping for a girl but it's a boy! Lol, sorry for coming down on you about you're poetry -- secretly you remind me a lot of myself at your age -- silly, lyrical, determind, head strong, attractive (lol). Yeah, poetry, there's nothing else like it is there, when it really starts to hit you around thirty... When you write a good one, you know, because you just weep with elation, and like a fine wine you know that poem? Is going to age like a dry sweet merlot.
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Impressive mélange of imagery, beautifully crafted to life with a top-notch word choice and clever phrasing.
My daughter is not yet two, but she certainly thinks she can conquer the world.
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"The child is father to the man."
Our children give us the opportunity to move beyond past injuries, in the interest of not injuring them. They can heal us, if we let them. And it sounds like you're letting him.
This is some thoughtful and powerful poem. Congratulations are due you, on more than one level. -
This is so huge and gorgeous I'm going to have to book mark it and re-visit again. It is open, real and very deep. So touching.
Reminds me how strong a writer you can be.
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Horus:
Very nice ode. I think I have found a piece of poetry by you with which I cannot find fault. Nice work. Personally, I believe you would do well to write from the heart like this more often.
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Your writing is interesting... and original. Which is more than I can say for a lot of stuff I've read. I'm glad that people are reading it and being touched by it. Good work.
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awww...oh my gosh this is so sweet! i loved it. i don't normally like reading long stories but i have to say that you kept me interested...great job! it was a very cute story...bravo to you! thank you very much for entering it into my contest, it was truly touching. God bless and keep up the good work!
~jessilynn11
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well, it seems i missed your comment, sorry. I did put a few links on your author's page. talkat ya later.
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Yak, interesting, that's what I had for dinner last night, ready to discuss what poem of yours you think is worth the world, lets do that shall we.
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kid cant reach the blacks on the piano eh? LOL.
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that you did not win the gold for this is a travesty, a mockery. I went and read the gold winner and could not distinguish between it and a pile of yak droppings.
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I am so amazed by the beauty and honesty of this..... I'm speechless.....
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Great
Monstrous. absolutely so large and beautiful as to approach ridiculousness in its proportions. This poem IS the sun and the sunset. Remarkable and honest, well, in a very touching and scary way.
this is great. Whatever it is that makes a writer able to move his or her readers, to make them see and feel, you got it. I am happy that you are using it. well done.
Edited on Apr 04, 11:12 because ''. -
that was simply amazing, it actually brought tears to my eyes, the subject matter hits so close to home for me, fathers, the piece your commented on of mine 'broken' was about my father, you sound like a fantastic father, and that brings tears of joy, whenever i see someone who cares that much for their son, i dont miss what i never had, but it makes me feel good that smoeon can have what i didnt, when i assume it was a fantastic thing, as for me i hope one day to be a fantastic father, but who knows, i definately know what not to do, but i also dont know what to do, so its a clean slate, i can make my own mistakes and find out for myself, thank you for this magnificent piece, seriously
peace , Eoj -
unique
i don't see the need for any futher analysis so i can say that this was a unique sort of story/poem type write which really worked great.i like the bonding that was going on with a father and son.good luck. -
That was brilliant. And I don't say that too often. I'm truly becoming a big fan of your poetry. Well done.
Your Cerulean Dreamer,
Michele -
This has touched me more than you can know. Although I had mended fences with my father before he died, I felt alot of these same feelings about my own children and my father. All my life I had disappointment after disappointment, allowed to feel it was somehow my fault that he was an alcoholic who couldn't love, and for a while there, when he wasn't seeing my children, I thought they were missing something. But I soon realized what they were missing was what I had had to deal with all my life - guilt, shame, worry, never knowing what to expect next - so really I became glad on one hand that he wasn't inflicting the same thing on them, and resenting on the other hand that he wasn't a different person. The sad reality of it all is that he was just a man who had a whole set of problems before he had me and my sisters, he was just a flawed man who had never been loved himself and therefore didn't have any to give to us. Not much to tell the grandkids though, is it. I'll just have a bit of a cry and then go on, my girls are grown now and I am spending as much time as I can with my own grandchildren, who know they are loved, if nothing else. And one last thing - I love it when you write something that I understand, you are very talented and have a true gift with words. Thanks for this piece.
~ becky
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This was priceless i loved it the way your heart went into this write is inspiring. This is a fantastic write and i enjoyed reading it thanks for writting this and thanks for posting something so touching.
x chelz -
Excellent
Excellent, teehee. Though I don't really enjoy reading stuff like this, this was absolutely an exception. Marvellous and wonderous, and also very imaginative. Did this truly happen? I often wonder with these things. I hope to become a mother some day, and a good one at that, and maybe right just as well as you have done here. Awesome write, it truly brought some joy in this little heart of mine. Thanks for entering our contest,
Ilse -
With that deep of sentiment poured forth into the static portrait you've painted, I'd say it's worth more than all the Louve contains. S'Truth.
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Actually, it's all true, the art to me shows my sun safe, but he needs grandparents too, but they've never stepped forward and offered not even an apple let alone the truth, and the other aspect is me not trusting them anyway, my parents, because they haven't changed, but I have? And I don't want them to accidentilly or purposely hurt my son with their actions or their lies. Other than that though? My son has single handedly with a little help from his mother cured me of a million ailments from drugs to violence all the way up through how I view myself and perform. thanks for all of your support and lovely words.
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i was in the shower thinking do you want an answer to your question can a security blanket be made of lies yes it can u see i know this couple who got married he married her for her money and he cheats on her all the time and she married him becuase she thought she would lose him to another girl hes like her ornement that she can parade around town do they really love each other who knows buut does it matter anymore in this day and age
Edited on Jan 07, 1:10 p.m. because ''. -
nice story, it sound so sweet what a lovely image of u and your son and your pic what are you trying to say with that one that your home life was a lie when you where young i alaways try to find the deeper meaning in things i was just thinking that a wrote a nice poem and that maybe what you really wanted was both your parent to be there for you since your dad was in jail and your mom kidnapped you or maybe they were both ther for you and u made the whole story up for attention whatever the case is i liked your poem keep them coming you are highly brillant
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Sheer Artistry
Odd, but I have the same crawling gut sensation as cvillelisa mentioned, but I'm sure this is all soul-spilling truth and the art counterpoints the sincerity in the telling.
Truth or not, this is an exceptional portrait of the past, present and future fusing in the light of the setting sun and may the three of them hold hands for a long gentle stroll.
Another example of your shining genius. I bow to your light that blinds my senses.
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lumpy throated emotion
Somehow and I can't explain quite why (other than the fact that I've been reading and feeling your Mother poems deep) I hope in my heart this is real and not imagined. The simple beauty our children create in our lives that can go unnoticed (except by poets, usually) when and if we stop long enough to soak it up in our hearts, hardly needs our imagination to embellish... I've written one called Hannah Imagines for my daughter. -
Childtastic!
God Bless you sir ....no words could I say...beautiful...touching...real...amazing....true...these together still don't add up to what this is....God Bless you sir....
~Gleto Orica?C. L. Brandon K.~ -
What a story you have given for me to ponder upon.This was beautifully written and well worth the long read.This touched my heart so much that words are hard to explain it. How selfish parents can be, and hateful to the children who desperatly seek and deserve their love.
sky
Edited on Jan 07, 1:05 because ''.
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