for my father
i was searching my desk for some thing to occupy my brain, the day after my dad died. I found this scrap of watercolor paper, with a poem i had written about my perspective of our relationship as an adult. How I could see him in a different light and be open to appreciating what he could offer me in the present, instead of what i longed for from childhood.
For my Father
Summer arrived
when my feet met fresh tilled Earth, the soil
warm and soft, my heart,
full of hope.
my father’s smile
felt like,
every—thing
he (has) never said.
— Elissa Andersen
🙏🏻💙