Friday, August 28, 2015

A father to his daughter at Eleven

There are moments when a father sees his daughter look off of a peer at a lake and leap
He watches her press the muscles in her legs, curve like a spring and launch
She flies like a sparrow into a fish trading land for air for the splatter of liquid
Submerging into waters neither the father or daughter truly know how deep

A trust is built from the day she is born, tiny and smoothest immaculate
Skin pressed to her mother’s breast moments after father held her mother’s right leg
Contractions and station descending to catapult daughter into world
Blood and uterus, body and a spirit flung to learn from that moment just how loved she is

A father will always love his daughter in ways he is feckless to find words
The adventures from Tuesday libraries of Daddy Bear and rabbits to the moon and back
Narnia bedside readings of a last battle to end a series before Lucy or Susan ever entered the wardrobe Trips from Ponchatoula to New Orleans with Hermione stunting Voldemort and a patriarchy

Like a word a father wants to explain to his soon to be eleven year old daughter
Knowing she is right at the beginning to see the shadows of the world with irises and pupils ablaze
To approach the land of tween and the scope of teenage wasteland bubbling the woman she is becoming A father sees his lovely daughter straddling both banks of an ever widening river

He knows her legs will only grow so tall that she will inevitably step across
Joining him soundly in the realm of adulthood; she will ride her own dragons and cast her own spells
But this is slow and to be a journey and so he says to her on this remembrance of her birth
“There is no need to rush; be who you are; play; be a kid your entire life;”

“Laughing, silliness do not end in adulthood; tween or teen, twenty or thirty
Being in the moment and seeing the light inside the same beautiful universe
Every being you will ever encounter holds within is the only task
Love big and get your heart broken; enjoy the stage, and do not worry”

“Yes, it will hurt, at times you will feel destroyed like Harry seeing Dumbledore fallen
You will see that it was never a father-figure, a time turner, or a boy’s attention that makes your greatness It is love; it is a common love through the river of you which is special in a flavor and talent No one else in this world can offer; so love yourself bold and fearless, shameless and honest”

“Know the permission to be flawed and beautiful because of, not in spite of your failures
Your father is more proud and loves you in ways he is feckless to find words
So as you spin eleven how about we go read books together, watch cartoons or find a trampoline?
Namaste”



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