photo: Frank E. Moorer

For My Daughter, Maya

My daughter was once a mysterious island place to me,
an enchanting land all her own.

Years before, when her fatherland and her motherland
separated and became two continents at war,
I could see my daughter setting herself adrift.
Both a part of and apart from
the land mass from which she was created.
Both apart from and a part of
each parent’s memory and expectation.

But back then I was so anxious,
and what I wanted most was to know her,
because I was afraid of what was happening to her.
And I worried about what I thought she might be feeling
when hateful bombs of blame and accusation
were hurled from both directions of the worlds she knew,
exploding in ugly anger over her skies.

Because I was so far off into the distance,
I always just wanted to reach her and protect her
from all the frightening uncertainty that I imagined
was thundering into her childhood nights,
and burning fear into her sleep.

But she was a mysterious island place all her own.

Today, being with her brings me great peace and joy.
And although she is still a mysterious island,
I’ve discovered a way of standing at a special spot on her horizon,
and by the time she sees me peeking at her,
I’ve already seen her from where she can’t see me see her.
And I’ve already seen the magic-brightness-of-her
smiling, laughing, shining, and sparkling
under her now beautiful island sky.
And I’ve already seen her spirit,
like a colorful seashell revealed
when a gentle wave recedes
slowly from a sandy shore.


© 2010 Melvin E. Brown