I See You

I see you. I see you when I close my eyes and I feel your presence in my heart. I see you on the ground, grabbing my hands, and lifting me up towards the ceiling by your feet. I feel your scratchy face as you kiss me goodbye before you head off to work. I see you loping along a trail and cocking your head when you hear a bird call, telling us all what it was. I feel your pinch as you try to quiet me in church. I see you sitting on the pew with your legs crossed, leaning forward, chin resting on the palm of one hand, and listening intently to the words of the pastor. I feel the buzz of a battery on my tongue as you assure me that it won't hurt a bit. I see you shovelling snow like a mad man and hunched over the hood of a car, tongue tickling your moustache, whether you have one or not. I see us paddling down the creek on Father's Day and I feel the rushing water as we tip out and watch the oars and the canoe float away from us. I feel the hug you gave me before I boarded the plane and I saw the two tears that trickled out of your eyes.



Tears spill from my eyes now and my heart twists in agony to think of your pain. I see you Dad, and Abba sees you too.