A Father's Day Poem For Juan Soto

To a Father I Never Really Knew

Though he left when I was four
I knew how he looked...
Obsidian hair flowing back
with a Brylcream embrace.
His bronzed skin flowed
in deep waves
of indigenous Brown.
He had invisible wings
which he used
to fly away
from our nest
to make a new nest with
younger birds.
I knew how he looked
I never knew his scent
the scent of a father
flying kites in ghetto parks with his son
or
teaching me how to hold a tortilla
so the beans do not escape from the bottom.
I remembered how he let me draw
inside the opening blank pages of books
maybe not to discourage
the artist in the three-year-old
while my mother wanted to beat me.
When he flew away
there was nothing to stop a deserted bird
from beating the child who looked most like you.
beating, beating, beating
until the smiles of childhood were extinct.
Most kids learn something from their father
I learned that children are more important than a book
as I watched my three year old create scribbles
inside a book.
I smiled,
a childhood smile I rediscovered
after many decades
and a simple memory from my dad
who never left me.