The un-discovered country;
in his eyes
when he praises you.
He attempts to hide the nervousness.
The rate of his breathing increases.
His father never gave him praise.
Never gave him glory.
Never it seems, made him the special centre of the moment.
And yet now he works this gift for you;
does it with no experience.
Is motivated by the desire to see you grow.
To see you swell with growing.
He stumbles over foreign land.
A son: your father.
Not measured by calibration.
Not perceived in weight or wonder but
as hard stone,
the slow carved mark
You walk with him.
Your hand in his.
The path new, yet well worn with wishing.
This image is an invocation:
Father and son, two friends like fire,
like kindling, like warmth.
If we imagine this for many sons and
for many fathers
it will not be
so much further off.