Pudgy Indian

THRESHOLD

My daughter,
Felicia,
has stepped across the threshold
to womanhood

I listen to reggae and folk
on KBOO.
War on Iran looms on the horizon.
She will be 12 tomorrow.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Ceremonies are in the works.

She joins the ranks of women
like my friends,
my Lover
the Nurses on
Bataan and Corregidor
during WWII.

She can give birth
to nations
should she choose.

And I,
one of her fathers,
am proud to journey
through life
with my
not so little
little one.

I think back
to her holding my finger
when we first met.
How she made our friends laugh.
How she made me laugh.
Singing her songs at bedtime.
Reading her books.
When she pinched my knee skin.
Wandering across the tiny meadow
to our neighbors.
The compassionate blue teddy bear
a gift after a brutal
verbal attack.
When she first rode
her bike at five.
At two,
walking through the doorway
with blackberry juice
all over her face.
Blossoming cherry trees.

And now...
And throught her life...