parents: what the fuck?

There’s no image or symbol to represent the everyday

To delve into the profundity of what lies at the surface:

How does a fish explain water or a snake the heat of the desert?

This is my problem with talking about my mother

A women who has been a part of my life in a way that

The sun has—dependable, strong, the reason why

My world continues to exist. Yet always expected:

Do you ever really doubt the rising of the sun? Or that

It will fail to keep you alive?

And what about a father—the steadfast love, the constant

Need to show him the man I’ve become. A father’s love for

A son is never easy—we blame fathers for not loving us the right

Way. But as a father myself now, I realize there is no right way. We

Love as best we can, as we see it will best fit our offspring,

to make him Tough and loving and all the things

that mean manhood.

Ultimately we fail

But in failing we get closer. And as I’ve learned

From my father, so my son will learn from me.

Mother-son, has it easier.

She doesn’t have to teach me about manhood,

And doesn’t feel responsible to teach; she just teaches

what it means to be merciful, loving

And I see a different strength there.

How those elements fit together and feed each other,

I don’t always understand--

to be loving doesn’t mean

You are weak, but are strong enough to be honest

With yourself, with others.

I wish I had learned to be stronger in my own life.

I’m both doomed and blessed.