How many times has my father
Lain face forward on uneven ground
So I may have a solid surface on which to stand
Swam in roaring waters
So my arms did not Tire
Acted as boat
And life preserver
So I may ride on his back toward my dreams
And still float
If he capsizes
Under the weight of the waves of his sacrifice?
I ask him to take a moment to breathe
But he explains
That he is saving the fresh air for me
He uses his lungs
Only to filter out the toxins
So I may inhale without a care
When we reach land
I beg him
To at least cushion his feet
As he carries me over thickets of needles
But he trudges on
Only seeing for me what lies in the distance
A sweeping field
Lush with foliage that has grown from the seeds of his sacrifice
My father
Would use shards of broken glass
Haphazardly pieced together through which to see
So long as he could ensure my vision was 20-20
He has walked miles in worn shoes, bolstered by tattered socks
So he could get to the store to buy me a new pair
Blistered his hands
to keep mine soft
Hardened his face
So that I may smile more
At 4 o’clock each morning
When he comes home from another 12 hours manning the barricades
He prays
Not for himself
But for our family.
He prays
That each time he has twisted his spine against harsh currents
to the point of almost snapping
That it straightened our path to becoming stronger
He prays
That the blood, sweat, and tears he sheds
Will mix together into the most beautiful of paints
With which my mother will create masterpieces.
He prays simply that his sacrifices
Will make our family into what his was not:
Whole.
I will work to answer these prayers
Each day that I am buoyed by his selflessness
I will
Swim a little harder
So that I can serve as HIS flotation device
Toward dreams deferred
Run a little faster
So that one day
I can carry him into the field he planted for me so long ago
Because someday, he must understand
That in a world where so many drown
His offerings
Were all that kept us afloat
