A whispered crisp autumn zephyr
lifts and gently tosses my hair
brushes softly against my cheek
to tug my bright vivid kite — skyward
these beautiful, crisp autumn days
remind me so, of my loving, adoptive father
we’d leave Ohio to fish the crystal waters of Canada
and fly colorful homemade kites, from the boat dock
out on the lake, I loved the soothing sound of water
lapping the sides of our aluminum fishing boat
and the breakwater splashing of a hooked, leaping fish
contorting at line’s end, like an unruly, windblown kite
for a sad young boy, those fishing trips were magic
life after the orphanage, I still often felt untethered
a lost kite, whose string was broken – blowing away
eventually, I rose intact, buoyed on this fisherman’s love
I began life tossed and tumbled in daily crosswinds
a kite unloosed, frenzied by surrounding uncertainty
but winds of fate carried me to a loving, generous man
who tethered me to his heart, and I, to his as well
I still soar strong, in bold colors of living
on the warm wafting winds of wonderful memory
of this man who gave me love, who gave me a life
gave me a home – and he taught me to love fishing
*
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: dVerse
Wow this is so beautiful.
Much love…
Thank you Gillena! 🙂
That image of you as ‘a lost kite, whose string was broken’ is heart-rending, Rob. I am so glad the winds of fate blew you to a loving adoptive father.
I have been so fortunate, and I’m extremely grateful.
Those are beautiful memories. The kind that keep us alive.
Yes they are Kerfe. 🙂
very evocative and sensual, the descriptions, the vividness of this poem, speak of both the joy, the brightness, perhaps the hope caught in the magic of kite flying and fishing, casting lines, lengthy silences etc. – and yet the sharp contrast of longing, ache, being and feeling untethered, lost is very poignant; ultimately, the love though, shines – the deep-water mystery of what ties and binds us, allows us to open ourselves to love, rings crystal clear here – well done, a lovely poem, a touching memory and tribute, a testament as well, as I should think, to the child who has grown into a generous and loving man
My adoptive father gave me the love and courage to finally seek what I so longed for – lineage. This finally occurred at age 25 with the birth of my daughter, Jennifer. I finally had someone present in my life, who was of my blood. It truly anchored me in this world for the first time. It took me a few years to fully grasp the significants of having set down the visible roots of blood ancestry. I finally grok’d the impact to me with the birth of my 2nd child, my son Aaron. My adoptive father remains my hero, may he rest in peace — but my children are finally my roots. Ironically, my daughter, just this year, my 74th, discovered my birth mother, and the story around my being abandoned as a child. Though I find it fascinating to know the true story, and I am grateful to my daughter for uncovering it — my original birth family exist only as curiosities to me, not as genuine family. They forfeited that role and monicker.
Thank you for sharing more of your personal story. Truly, it’s moving – and yes, sometimes “biology” is simply that – coding and genetics; in some ways, I believe we can make, create or choose our true families. Of course, this isn’t necessarily a “common” value, there are those who insist “blood is thicker than water” – but ultimately, I think whatever happiness we long for, the love we need to find/share/create is something personal; I’m glad that you have the family you needed to create/find – and if your life, despite all hardships and challenges, is filled with joy, peace and love – and you are happy, then truly, you are blessed.
Thank you for your expanded comment. I agree wholeheartedly!
Happy that the wind blew you into this gentle man’s care, Rob.
I am so grateful Lisa! 🙂 I cannot imagine what my life would have been like to have lived it as Lawrence Tieke, orphan?
I always appreciate tales in poetry form of your boyhood. This is wonderful, Rob.
Thank you Helen. The older I get, I revert to writing what I know… 😉
Rob, thanks for sharing this wonderfully personal poem of a relationship bouyed up by wind, kites, and fishing…what could be better?!
You’re welcome Lynn. He was the strongest, most generous, and humble man I will ever know in my life. His love was deep and quiet, like the many wilderness lakes we would fish together. For me, he was a miracle ‘midst the mayhem. I never told him just how significant he was in my life, because it was only as I grew to a mature man, that I fully realized just how much he meant to who I became.
Such a moving tribute in honour of love, and the memory is present and powerful. Very special.
Thank you Paul… 🙂
This is incredibly hard-hitting and poignant, Rob! Especially moved by; “I began life tossed and tumbled in daily crosswinds a kite unloosed.”
I am pleased this resonated for you Sanaa.
What a beautiful and moving tribute to your father and family connection. I enjoyed learning about your fishing trips!
Thank you. My father (adoptive) taught me the love of fishing. Waking deep in the wilderness in our log cabin, to the peace and still of the early morning lake. The crisp chill of the sunrise air in early spring, but especially autumn. Grabbing some firewood we chopped the day before to stoke the big black potbelly stove to warm the cabin. Cooking breakfast in the bid “seasoned” iron skillet. Launching from the dock using a Coleman lantern for light. The sound of our boat motor coming to life, then echoing the lake as we motored to our favorite fishing spot. The sounds of the water lapping the boat. Hearing and watching other wildlife waking for the day. The occasional bear out of the tall trees at shore line. Big birds like eagles or osprey “fishing”. The haunting pre dawn call of the lake lunes, and again in twilight. Hearing fish jump in the distance. The excitement of hoping for “fish-on”. The instant industry of getting the fish into the boat. The beauty and electric energy of the fish. Dipping your hands over the side of the boat into glacier chill water the release the fish — to watch it swim away. We dif mostly catch & release, occasionally keeping a choice trout to grill. My father liked other fish, but I was a trout man, occasionally a perch. I love fishing, and I love and miss my mentor very much.
Love the kite flying in and out of this poem. He must be a wonderful, loving man.
Thank you Sara… 🙂