NOTE: I am sharing these poems today on OLN, so that I can remember. A significant family event occurred this past week, which I will not share here. It made me wang to be a fly on the wall to my own past. You can join me if you wish.
Here is a suite of four love poems I’d written to my family. “A Clearing” is written to my wife, Kathy. “Remembered” is written to my daughter, Jennifer. “Tough Love” is written to my son, Justin. And “The Picture” is written to my departed son, Aaron. Click below if you would like to read this suite of poems.
Authors note: I wrote this following piece in honor of my wife, Kathy, on the occasion of our 20th anniversary as a couple, our 18th wedding anniversary, which occurs next week. Kathy, like me. is an artist. Her discipline is contemporary fiber art. Her work is unique, and her craftsmanship is quite splendid. We are just beginning to set up a website for her Fibrations Studio.
A CLEARING
•
(For my wife Kathy)
Often, when you’re away,
a calm settles over me.
I’m filled with a warmth, a peace,
a joy that is my love for you!
The fog of life’s distractions dissipates.
The veil of pride and insecurity lifts.
I see, with great clarity,
how real – my love for you,
how true – my bond of fidelity,
how remarkable – our relationship,
how certain – I would give my life for you!
In these precious moments
emotions overwhelm me.
I vow I will share with you
the depth of these feelings,
holding nothing back – baring all!
Then the fog creeps back.
I am again shrouded by insecurity.
Expressions of love falter – I fall mute.
So, my love, see these words as a clearing,
where you can visit and be nurtured.
A private, wonderful place you can go,
to know these treasures in my heart!
…
Rob Kistner © 2007
______________________
Author’s note: This following piece is written to my oldest child, my daughter, Jennifer. She lives in another city, in another state. I seldom get to see her. She is active in her financial career and travels the world. However, she always remembers my birthday. I genuinely appreciate the present she will send, but I look so forward to the arrival of the accompanying card — word’s can’t explain. It’s the card in which she takes pen in hand, and puts pen to card to write me some words of love. The note always starts with my most favorite word!
Remembered
•
(For my daughter Jennifer)You’ll Ii
After all these years, she hasn’t lost the magic,
to transport me through time and space.
As I open the card that found its way
across the lonely miles between us,
I see it, the magic word,
Daddy!
Like a brilliant sorceress,
she’s cast her spell.
I find myself in a wonderful dream.
She floats into my arms,
wrapping me in warm embrace:
pure,
absolute,
unquestioning,
LOVE!
“Daddy!” She smiles into my eyes.
She is my little girl again,
my firstborn, my beautiful daughter!
So I cry.
…
Rob Kistner © 6/25/95
______________________
Author’s note: This following piece is written for my youngest child, and only surviving son, Justin. It is my great joy to have raised him, and to know him now as a man.
Tough Love
•
(For my son Justin)
Ours is a tough relationship,
tough love, no room for timid.
It is so easy to find fault,
for there in you go I.
Your imperfections glare at me.
I have them all within, and more.
Photos from my past, uncanny,
they might as well be you.
But it’s where we’re not alike
that your miracle begins.
You shine more brightly than I do,
or likely, ever did.
You care for people, honestly.
I feign, in truth, I’m distant.
Your strength in facing life,
man — I just stand and marvel!
You’ve accomplishments in hand, right now,
I never will attain.
I do envy you, my son.
At times, I’m even jealous.
It’s this acute familiarity
that can cause the sparks to fly.
We fight, but greater is my love.
I criticize, but you make me proud.
My love for you is true and deep.
My pride is vast and lasting.
It’s impossible with these words I craft,
to tell you what you mean to me.
But every word for love and pride —
I feel in my heart!
…
Rob Kistner © 2007
______________________
Author’s note: This following tribute was written to my son, Aaron. He would be 30 years old today, but his life was tragically cut short at the age 18, when he was killed in a traffic accident. The individual who hit Aaron had fallen asleep at the wheel.
The Picture
•
(In loving memory of my son, Aaron Kistner: 11/4/76 – 7/3/95)
It may be my favorite picture of you, son,
the one I cherish most since your passing.
A simple snapshot,
taken at the airport,
upon your return
from having run the New York City Marathon.
A gentle, triumphant smile,
eyes beaming behind those “way cool” shades,
jacket sleeves rolled in casual hip-ness,
bag thrown so carefree over your shoulder,
medal dangling proudly from your strong neck.
The victor: gentle, cool, hip, carefree, proud, and strong,
— fiercely handsome!
How profound this captured moment proved to be.
Taken just before the finish line of your 18 years,
it said it all.
Your race is run,
your bag is packed,
your reward’s in hand.
Fly my sweet angel – fly!
…
Rob Kistner © 7/3/05
