Dad / Hope
written February 2008
I am the spark you held in
your cupped hands. You marveled
at my brightness because there
was so little of
me.
You were mightily afraid
that if you tried to
kindle me into a clever leaping
biting wonderful fire, you would
instead by accident
smother me to dust.
So —
you looked away
and hoped I would catch
and blaze on my own.
Now I burn and dance
and crackle and
I hope that I am big enough
to warm you if you are cold.
Guide that inspired this poem: