Poetry
Don't be so hard on yourself
by Dennis "M.A. Dennis" Francis
by Dennis "M.A. Dennis" Francis
When it comes to parenting,
we
all
fall
short
of the glory
of God.
When I think of my shortcomings as a father,
I think of Abraham and what must’ve been
a strained relationship with his son: On their
way down from the mountain, how awkward
(and unsafe) did Isaac feel, after the almost-
human sacrifice? What if the governor, or
goat, hadn’t called at the very last second?
When I think of my shortcomings as a dad,
I think of Darth Vader,
and Thanos,
and O.J. Simpson,
and animal kingdom patriarchs
who eat their own young,
and I think: I’m not as bad as I think.
When it comes to childhood, I had almost
no father—and was thrust into the dad role
without orientation or supervised training,
and worked triplet-shifts because the job
wouldn’t gimme a break!—so I listen to my
inner-Nell Carter: Don’t be so hardened heart
on your(stiff-necked)self.
When I think of my failures as a parent,
I recall my son as a baby, having congestion
so bad he couldn’t breathe—and that damn
squeezy bulbous rubber nasal thingamajig
wasn’t doing jack shit… So to hell with it:
I put my mouth over his nose
and sucked out the mucus.
we
all
fall
short
of the glory
of God.
When I think of my shortcomings as a father,
I think of Abraham and what must’ve been
a strained relationship with his son: On their
way down from the mountain, how awkward
(and unsafe) did Isaac feel, after the almost-
human sacrifice? What if the governor, or
goat, hadn’t called at the very last second?
When I think of my shortcomings as a dad,
I think of Darth Vader,
and Thanos,
and O.J. Simpson,
and animal kingdom patriarchs
who eat their own young,
and I think: I’m not as bad as I think.
When it comes to childhood, I had almost
no father—and was thrust into the dad role
without orientation or supervised training,
and worked triplet-shifts because the job
wouldn’t gimme a break!—so I listen to my
inner-Nell Carter: Don’t be so hardened heart
on your(stiff-necked)self.
When I think of my failures as a parent,
I recall my son as a baby, having congestion
so bad he couldn’t breathe—and that damn
squeezy bulbous rubber nasal thingamajig
wasn’t doing jack shit… So to hell with it:
I put my mouth over his nose
and sucked out the mucus.