Bedtime

Daddy’s time.

I rock her in the darkness

Two years old today,

My springy little girl

With hair like a headful

Of black springs

Coiled soft against my cheek

As we rock in the

Rocking chair.

I pray into her hair,

To the God who grows

Gardens in the hearts

Of men and children.   

We are teaching her

Obedience, which comes first.

A rough concrete slab

Upon which you can build

Sturdy and spacious floors

Of wisdom and meekness,

Honesty and integrity.

Obedience comes first.

And she is like a warm seed

Against me, curled up,

And I pray for God to give her

A heart of obedience, rocking

Her in the darkness, and she

Begins a list, she loves to

List things at this age, so she says

We obey! We obey our parents

And mommeee and dadeee

And Zai-Zai, and mommeee

And daddeee and nanaaa and

Papaaa …

She lists off grownups at random

And I see her innocence. All she knows

Is to obey grownups, she does not know

That there are wicked and vile men

In this world. Men who would steal

Her innocence if they could.

And in that moment,

Something primal and protective

Rises up in me, like a white hot rage,

Like opening a furnace door,

I don’t know to what lengths

I would go to protect this innocence,

I can’t see that far, only that it is

Further than I can see, and the way

Is obscured by smoke and heat,

A feral place inside myself I hope

I never have to go. And I acknowledge

This is father-fire. God’s instinct,

God’s furnace, wrought in me the day

You were born. I am not a ferocious man.

But for you I could be a lion to keep you safe.

I could become unrecognizable.

And I answer her list

With a list of my own: 

With a heat of conviction she

Couldn’t possibly understand:

“Daddy will take care of you.“

“Daddy will protect you.“

“Daddy will love you.“

And in response

She asks me this:

I kid you not.

She says, and I quote:

“Daddy,

Can we go at

Chik Filas

Later?”