Good Dad, Bad Dad

Draft #3 10/24/25 1:56 PM

Good Dad, Bad Dad

Fall can feel heavy sometimes

like the weight of leaves are anvils-

he worked in steel and wanted to be a blacksmith.

It's been almost two years.

How can you miss someone who raped your sister?

How can you even begin to think fondly

of all those times

you played catch with a baseball or football

or played Horse just outside the garage

where the glass globe popped into shards.

Or when he taught you how to not be afraid

even though you were afraid for a long time 

after that, and the fear still lingers

like metal that's been worked over

and the hot orange glow

does not dissipate, even though everything else is dark.

How can I even begin to smile and tell my daughters

about how he would wrestle my brother and I

and we enjoyed it- and we laughed.

It almost doesn't make sense 

how life is such a jumble 

of beautiful and terrible things

how the beautiful can become terrible

and the terrible can become beautiful

how God is both filled 

with wrath

and mercy.

_____________________________________________________________
Draft #2 10/23/25 3:26 PM

Good Dad, Bad Dad

Fall can feel heavy sometimes

like the weight of leaves are anvils-

he worked in steel and wanted to be a blacksmith.

It's been almost two years.

How can you miss someone who raped your sister?

How can you even begin to think fondly

of all those times

you played catch with a baseball or football

or played Horse just outside the garage

where the glass globe popped into shards.

Or when he taught you how to not be afraid

even though you were afraid for a long time 

after that, and the fear still lingers

like a light that gets turned off and the glow remains

for some time, hovering in the darkness

like metal that's been worked over

and the hot orange glow

does not dissipate, even though everything else is dark.

How can I even begin to smile and tell my daughters

about how he would wrestle my brother and I

and we enjoyed it- and we laughed.

It almost doesn't make sense 

how life is such a jumble 

of beautiful and terrible things

how the beautiful can become terrible

and the terrible can become beautiful

how God is both filled with wrath

and mercy.

___________________________________________________________________

Draft #1 10/23/25 
It's been almost two years.

How can you miss someone who raped your sister?

How can you even begin to think fondly

of all those times

you played catch with a baseball or football

or played Horse just outside the garage

where the glass globe popped into shards.

Or when he taught you how to not be afraid

even though you were afraid for a long time 

after that, and the fear still lingers

like a light that gets turned off and the glow remains

for some time, hovering in the darkness.

How can I even begin to smile and tell my daughters

about how he would wrestle my brother and I

and we liked it, and we would laugh.

It almost doesn't make sense 

how life is such a jumble of beautiful and terrible things

how the beautiful can become terrible

and the terrible can become beautiful

how God is both filled with wrath

and mercy.

September to October

It settles down, this time, like a leaf

this season
looking upward to its home

just a crooked line now

and the decay has already begun.

This time of year

summer is a kind of lingering 

that can only be detected by temperature-

it's too warm today to say, autumn,

but I automatically get the nostalgia

for all those things:

    chopping wood with Dr. Allen

    disrupting leaf piles

    one on one tackle football with my brother

    cold nights with the windows open

    and colder mornings

    the simple act of smelling pumpkin pie.

But the heat and the decay and the lack of rain

gets jumbled in my head the way walking

through a fitness club scrambles up my mind

with three or four sources of music

and the massive amount of uncontrolled movement

(like so many fish flailing in air for water)

and the cling wrap of clothing double vacuum-sealed

and the false light

and the false plants

and the constant advertising

and the constant purchasing.

This fall the nostalgia doesn't cut it.