For my father


Nani

“Nani, believe me,”
he starts telling of pain and toils
the tales bring a tear and yet, looking into his eyes,
his mirror reflection is the fruit of his labor
and I see

“Nani, believe me,”
he speak of where he was and where he has come
he tells me a tune that is yet unsung,
but the music is in the story
and I listen

“Nani, believe me,”
he says with such conviction
telling me of gifts I possess
things I didn’t know he saw, things previously unsaid
and I hear

“Nani, believe me,”
he says pointing out my accomplishments
brushing aside my shame, dusting off my shy
wiping my fears, showing me my self
and I cry

“Nani, believe me,”
he is eager to share and pass me the wisdom of his years
he speaks of my future untold
in me, he instills hope
and I sigh

“Nani, believe me,”
he comforts as his arms find their way around me,
in his encompassing hug I find unconditional love
my ache consoled
and I believe

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