(For Camille, a darling daughter and boon to my blogging)
You reach sixteen in my absence,
Your loving hand reaching the loneliness
Of a father on the run for food
And freedom to write of his ghosts,
Demons too of his own sacred past.
I hope you will understand
All of it,
This distance in time
A nearness of memory
By a devoted daughter's love.
I miss the laughter, your eyes misting
As you write your letter asking for
Pardon the second time around,
A third, a fourth, a hundred times
Promising me goodness of heart
Generosity of spirit
And your welcoming arms,
Your words salving my tired soul
Recollecting ancient songs to silence
The thousand tumult
Of our familiar lives.
Aurelio S. Agcaoili