Father's Eyes

Father’s Eyes  by Kevin Cahill

I watched you before you knew what it meant

to be held or to blush,

the first time you blinked and collapsed the space 

between my eyes and yours,

the world grew large, fitting neatly within

your cupped hand,

for awhile you skipped in that small spot of light

forever before me,

skirting shadows, a picture ready for the taking 

a smile flirting with the truth,

your face upturned always, the question ever

present, Father, do you see?

I too would smile and say,

yes sweetie, I see.

My great pleasure was you not noticing

as I watched.

Seeing you, in repose, at play, or awake in your

own skin, your face soft and grave,

your eyes absorbed by a ribbon of blue

tangled in a doll's hair,

too far, too deep to fathom, too secret 

to disturb,

But then came the hiding, the love of distance,

the veiled lids,

A father’s eyes, useless and prying, chasing

you into shadows,

Secrets sprouted like mushrooms, hands flying up

to shield our faces,

It was better not to look, better not to see, better

to dream,

A father’s eyes grow dim even as the world

blooms around him,

I hold what I see more dearly than ever, more

clearly than I remember,

For I remember only shadowy things flickering

on sheet rock walls,

and also red stains on linen sheets, damp dark streaks 
upon smooth cheeks,

Strands of dark hair framing dark beautiful

eyes, unblinking and wary,

My eyes register rumors of changes, tempting me 

to ask you, Do you see? 

Do you see? I imagine dancing

before you,

clumsily searching out the spot of light where '

you happen to be gazing.

My head cocked coyly to one side, as I wink and dare 

you to ignore my antics.

A father’s eyes may yet twinkle, as yours did when

when a red balloon sank into the sky,
and the world grew large, stretched far beyond 
your fingers,

And floated away above silent hilltops, nestling

finally in a tale 
where the small cupped hands of a stranger's

child, her eyes blinking wide

as if peering back into a telescope and asking,

Do you see?

 Do you?

May 23, 2012