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As a part of training men to work with young males, we bring them back to the relationship with their fathers to help them get at any emotional residue. We want them to be in fresh contact with their father issues, feelings and hungers. By reconnecting with the complexity in that relationship, they are better prepared to support so many of the young males who are struggling to understand and cope with what is going on with them and their fathers. It’s bitter-sweet work that often leads to supported healing for all the men involved.
Two Man-Making subscribers have submitted the following poetic expressions describing the love, longing, sadness, maybe even hopelessness they have in their relationship with their fathers. Let’s see what they bring up for you.
In a very personal poem written by contributor Rick Belden, he tells a story of his relationship with his father as represented by an array of his father’s tools.
tools my father gave me
wrenches
hammers
socket sets
screwdrivers
pliers
a hacksaw
and so on
are laid out on cardboard on the living room floor
it looks like an autopsy scene
what caused this person to die?
or a forensic examination site
what caused this plane to crash?
or the results of an archaeological dig
what was this lost civilization like and why did it fail?
each object carefully positioned just as it was found
waiting to be tagged
documented
and taken off to the museum.
these are the tools my father gave me
as christmas presents when I was a kid
the contents of a big
chunky clunky
heavy as hell
old rusty metal toolbox
also a christmas present
from my dad
I don't know what to do with this stuff
the part of me that dislikes disorder wants to
put it all away
or get it out of here
but I think it's exactly as it should be for now
spread out on the floor
like the contents of an open grave
and I'm gonna leave it that way for a while
a monument in progress
to a lost cause I've finally turned loose.
for almost fifty years I continued to hope
that I could work it out with him somehow
that we could have some big breakthrough
if I could just figure it all out
if I could understand him
what he wanted from me
if I just had enough time
if I was just smart enough
to work it all out.
but
I finally had to admit defeat
I finally had to let it all go
because I finally knew beyond a shadow of a doubt
that it was never gonna work
no matter what I did
no matter how hard I tried
or how long I tried
it was never gonna work
I was never gonna be what he wanted
and he was never gonna be what I wanted
or give me what I needed
no matter how much I needed it
it simply wasn't gonna happen
ever.
nothing I did
or didn't do
or could have done
no amount of patience
or waiting
or forgiving
or confronting
or achieving
or accommodating
was ever gonna change anything between him and me
that's just the way it is
was
and always will be.
so here I am
with the tools he gave me
all laid out on the floor
like dinosaur bones
waiting to be reassembled
they've been there
just like that
for over a year now
a dusty little metal graveyard in my living room
a free-form sculpture in iron and steel
of grief and loss and never was.
Copyright © 2008 by Rick Belden, - rickbelden.com - Author of
Iron Man Family Outing: Poems about Transition into a More Conscious Manhood
Michael Sterling said, An incredible song / poem came into my life recently - a love song from a man to his father. For years, I hated and raged at my father. After living my own mistakes, I've learned to have compassion for him. This poem, Mi querido viejo (My dear old man), by Piero, it speaks to this journey in both the man and his son. I offer this with thoughts - sadness, compassion, forgiveness & gratitude for Ron, my father passed.
My Spanish isn't native or perfect, but listen deep to the words in this translation and you will feel it all:
Viejo mi querido Viejo / My dear old man
He's a good man my old man
He travels alone and waiting
He seems sad
from so much traveling
I look at him from afar
but we are so different
he grew up in the century
with tramcars and wine
Old man, my dear old man
now you walk so slowly
as if you were forgiving the wind
I am your blood, my old man
I am your silence and your time
He has good eyes
and a heavy figure
Age came upon him
Without show, without audience
I have the new years
and the man, the old years
He holds his pain inside
and his stories are timeless
My old man, my dear old man
no you walk so slowly
as if you were forgiving the wind
I am your blood, my old man
I am your silence and your time
I am your blood, my old man
He's a good man my old man
He travels alone and waiting
He seems sad
from so much traveling
I look at him from afar
but we are so different
he grew up in the century
with tramcars and wine
Old man, my dear old man
now you walk so slowly
as if you were forgiving the wind
I am your blood, my old man
I am your silence and your time
He has good eyes
and a heavy figure
Age came upon him
Without show, without audience
I have the new years
and the man, the old years
He holds his pain inside
and his stories are timeless
My old man, my dear old man
no you walk so slowly
as if you were forgiving the wind
I am your blood, my old man
I am your silence and your time
I am your blood, my old man
In this clip Piero singing Viejo mi querido Viejo in Spanish,
accompanied by some wonderful graphics.
accompanied by some wonderful graphics.
If the video doesn’t appear above use this link.
Did these expressions touch something in you? If you’re inclined, use the comments section below to post to share your reaction. If you’re and email subscriber, send me a note directly and (if you’re willing) I’ll share it with others in the comments to the post.
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