Kamz At 16 In The Old Country

(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

Made sanctified

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

Torrance, CA


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