Hands Like His Son's
Old burnings,
bombardments,
betrayals,
scar his road.
The dead he lost (and the dead he
chose)
we can't bring back.
But into the great silence
of his childhood,
let us put
a father
at ease with love
attuned to patience;
whose humor, lit and ready,
dismantled sadness.
A father whose eyes
brimmed
with praise,
whose gentle voice
the animals came to willingly,
whose hands, like his son's,
were achingly
careful.
Let us—because we can
give a father worthy of the name
to the son who felt the ground beneath him
melt and run
and yet stood firm.
Sons prove their fathers
fierce and fair,
who find the thread of good
in every man.
For harsh breeds harsh
and cold
breeds only more cold.
Belittling begets bullies
not heroes.
Boys, like ours,
learned self-worth, not in the breach
but by example.
They learned honor by precedent
molded in the curve of their fathers' words
—tender at their engendering
—steady in their wandering
remembered past remembering.
Though branches broken by storm
heal over hard,
roots will hold where the heartwood's true.
Where shelter was given,
shelter grows
and green will come.
JH*SS*JH*SS
Note: A recording of "Hands Like his Son's" is posted on SoundCloud dot com (search for "A Michigan Skylark in Laramie").
My inspiration for this poem was the sacred choral work "Do Not Be Afraid" by modern British composer Philip Stopford with text by Gerard Markland* (several gorgeous versions are posted on YouTube). Though I don't intend my poem to be read as religious allegory, Stopford's intimate portrayal of God's love prompted me to think about earthly fathers, Jess' father in particular.
Jess himself says almost nothing about his father, so as writers of fanfiction we are left on our own to fill out the details using the only evidence we have—Jess' own character. Did his father possess the same qualities that we love and admire in Jess? I would very much like it to be so.
*"When you walk through the waters, I'll be with you;
—you will never sink beneath the waves.
When the fire is burning all around you,
you will never be consumed by the flames.
When the fear of loneliness is looming,
then remember that I am at your side.
When you dwell in the exile of a stranger,
remember you are precious in my eyes.
For you are mine, o my child, and I am your Father.
And I love you, I love you, I love you with a perfect love."
—from "Do Not Be Afraid" by Philp Stopford and Gerard Markland
