The Archetype

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Father… the propellant
That launches a small child
Through the air
Hysterical laughs
Trailing like chemtrails of glee
Controlled landings into white duvets
Draped over Birch frames

Father… the pilot
Who leads down diamond slopes
Carrying four poles
One set of skis
And a child
Showing signs of panic
Who guides
Across deserts
Stricken by flash floods
Down highways lined with Pines
Through basins
Between snowy peaks
Imparting the beauty
Of a life well lived

Father… the preceptor
On soccer fields
Slick with dew
That twinkles as the early morning sun
Chases the crisp nip out of the air
Or in tiny beach bars
Where dozens of screaming men
Huddle under ceiling fans
Practicing nationalism
As they watch a tiny black and white TV
And across dinner tables
As he gives assessments and advice
To aid in navigation
Of lone journeys

Father… the propagator
Who understands the dark side
Turning rough sketches
Of human forms
Into Jedi’s
Who learn to forgive themselves
And recognize
The damaging but alluring sway
Of vanity, pride and machismo

Father… the precedent
The man who loses
Character
Control
But quickly retracts
Admits
Offers penance
Illustration
The archetype
For understanding
How to be a virtuous
Honest heart
With principle
To match compassion

Father… the protector
Of love
Arms of strength
Home, stability and encouragement
The ear
And the words needed

Father… me
The face that you slowly become
Wrinkles and aging smiles
The man you evolve into
Radiating and replicating
Experiences and words imparted
Becoming the propellant, pilot, preceptor, propagator, precedent and protector

 

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