There is something overpowering about holding a child who is so deeply connected to you. In fact, even his name is a fusion of our (my youngest brother Devin and me) names--Jacin. I am thankful every day for him, and pray I have the opportunity to be the type of uncle to him as my uncles were to me. I intend to be. But just in case life intervenes with my intentions, as life often does, I wrote this poem.
Love you for reading.
To
Jacin (a letter I hope you never have to read)
If we somehow separated
or you sprouted through adolescence
without aid of your uncle’s water,
know I left you with the first
half of my name, a reason to find you.
If your grip upon a ball is unguided by
my words, coached to you by some stranger
on a sideline of summer grass,
know the pattern of your fingers on leather mimics mine,
as does the placement of your pen as you write our last name.
If you ever felt abandoned by the food of Being,
the drive of our Pulse, that very love once used to fill
a dry tin—which now only yields reflections of a hungry heart—
know I reached my arms to you, packaged my soul
and sent it forth in the carriage of a prayer and demanded careful speed
of a messenger boy’s bicycle, one that would suit you
had I been there to teach you how to ride; and I watched it
coast into the wind with the whimsical wonder of a dandelion wish,
faith of an accompanying, divine request
heaved to the sky each evening.
Know I never felt so selflessly small
until your entire hand swallowed my finger, and that
I never gave a kiss with true meaning
until my lips pressed against the crown of a head shaped like mine,
your face gently pressed against the pillow of my chest;
know I never saw family so clearly
until you wore great-grandfather’s chin
beneath a smirk that revived faces
of great-uncles you’ll never meet,
who raised our fathers in a line of men
tough like Kentucky clay, strong
as steel fastened to the earth
like the tracks of Burlington’s line, the lengths of which
I would travel if I had to give the second half of my life,
or my name, just to find you.
