My Lap

Tonight my daughter crawled into my lap.  I could tell something was bothering her, but I’d learned that prying often led to her withdrawing like a turtle deep into a protective shell where I could not reach her.  But tonight when the house was silent and dark she crawled into my lap. She is nineteen…

These Hands

These hands with veins like aged snakes and wrinkles gray are getting old But once these hands were small and smooth and held a father’s hand. These hands have blocked the blows of man and faith that tried to confine. But the vastness in these hands cannot be caged. These hands have let go until…