<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">For All The Fathers</font></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><font class=""></font> </p><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">For all the fathers with us and gone,</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">the ones who worked in factories</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">and taught us to drive cars,</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">the ones who knew how to put a worm on a hook</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">and how to get a fish, flopping, off of it.</font></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><font class=""></font> </p><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">For all the fathers, lonely on their couches,</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">ash trays on their bellies, the smell </font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">of cigarettes on their hands, the blare</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">of the television drowning out the voices</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">of those too difficult to remember,</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">even some of those still living and breathing</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">in the same room.</font></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><font class=""></font> </p><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">For all the fathers reaching for their books</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">turning to the pages of poetry that give music</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">to the sounds trapped inside them, turning</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">the pages of manuals that informed their hands</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">on how to make furniture for the family, toys</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">for the grandchildren, cradles for the neighbor’s children</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">adopted from Vietnam.</font></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><font class=""></font> </p><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">For all the fathers who once, when boys, looked up</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">to see their own fathers standing in the place</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">of the men who came before them, men</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">who loved a good story, a certain spring flower,</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">the smell of dust rising after a rain.</font></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><font class=""></font> </p><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">For all the fathers who could not give<br class="">what was expected of them</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">and showed this by their absence, gone</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">in a bottle, gone on a rampage, gone</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">on an assignment. Gone. Gone. Gone.</font></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><font class=""></font> </p><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">For all the fathers who lifted and carried groceries</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">over water, babies up mountains, children off to bed,</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">war stories untold for decades, and memories from childhood</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">they could not speak of even to the ones they loved.</font></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><font class=""></font> </p><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">For all the fathers in good health and ill, for their strength </font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">and their weariness, the dwindling away of possibility</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">into the wrinkles and bald spots we remember</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">before the final good-byes. For all the fathers, </font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">the silent, the speaking, and the fathers</font></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class="">all of their young boys will become.</font></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><font class=""></font> </p><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;" class=""><font class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>- Ann Arbor</font></div></body></html>