literature

Daddy's Girl

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Literature Text

Daddy's Girl

Do we stop being daughters
When we become somebody's wife?
It has been a week now since last my daddy phoned
And I wonder what I mean to him
When now to him I don't belong.

Is there still a space inside his heart
Reserved and pure, since I was born?
When he could cup me in his hand
One eye on me
One eye on Spock
Doing research for my life—
I never see him reading now
But we share the bluest eyes.

Can I still make him proud of me
Or disappointed in my choices?
Can I even make him smile
The exact same way he used to?
When we both lived
In the mammoth house he built
With the same hands that held the baby book
The same hands cupped around my face
Folded at the table where he led us all in grace.
My father was a holy man
I wish I was more like him.

And I am oh so grateful for--
And oh so bittersweet about--
The way he gave me piggy-backs
And when I could hug him on his leg—

Every good thing I cannot number
In the expanses of a book or poem
All the memories that belong just to me and him—
These are the blessings of my childhood
Sacred as a prayer.

I have lost no love for him,
So maybe it's the same
I know I miss the way he held me
When I was only his to hold;
And perhaps he feels an absence
In his disenfranchised hands
That only I could fill…

He will call me soon,
I know:
He loves his daughter still.
Some musings about my dad. Now that I've moved so far away from him, I really understand how much I took for granted.

Don't make the same mistake I did.

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Avenvia's avatar
I like how certain you are at the end. It seems right that despite your doubts, the poem should end on a positive note; that says something about your relationship with your family.

I used to not see my father at all. Now I do sometimes, but I rarely go to his house. So I probably don't get the full meaning of this poem =)