(Real) Fathers

A father’s hands

Punished by life

Yet somehow gentle

Holding our world


Worn but strong

Their hands could

When ours couldn’t

Saving us often


Scarred and calloused

Shaped by circumstance

Never complaining

They just do the job


When duty calls

They lean in

Forward into peril

With unwavering calm


Right is right

Renouncing wrongs

A character of confidence

Drenched in dignity


Unstated power

Soft yet steely

Quiet gallantry

Guarding virtue


Never triumphant

Yet deservedly so

Always there

Devoted ’til the end


They leave too soon

A sudden void

The foundation heaves

Beneath our citadel


Shaken we stumble

Yet their spirit returns

To steady us once more

Handing the world to us