Like Father

A poem for my dad on what would have been his 94th birthday.

growing up

people told me

i was more like you

than sainted Mom.

i rued sharing your

long face, curly hair;

you walked duck-footed,

i turned my feet to pigeon-toed.

growing up,

i drew an angry bead on your temper,

your glad-hand stretching of the truth,

but the more frantically i distanced,

the more i saw myself

as identically marked.

growing up,                      eventually

i got the gist of being human.  

got off my high horse

to even ground

and your soft heart.

i saw our learning curves align,

two parts wisdom to one part letting go;

in the sweep, a bend towards light,

because, dad,

i take after you.