It's been over five months since my last blog post. That may sound pathetic and lame, but if you look at it another way, I just achieved a new milestone -- "longest I've gone without blogging". And I've been blogging since 2005, so, you should be really really impressed.
The above line has been edited to reflect reality -- as opposed to my initial thoughtless misperception. If you're truly interested, here is my first blog entry ever.
I'm posting tonight to do something I've almost never done before -- share a bit of my incredibly personal, extremely private poetry. It's unrefined, unedited, basically raw as hell, but I want people to read this one. And by people, I mean fathers. Specifically, 'fathers who have precious little daughters'.
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For the Daughters
She is eight years old and coloring.
A princess.
Her little round face is filled with concentration.
Crayons are scattered, some broken, some peeled.
She believes she could be that princess one day.
Loved by all, no cares, living happily ever after.
"Do you think her dress should be pink or purple?"
Yesterday she fit in my arms and sobbed.
Because of a boo-boo. Her tears soaked my shoulder.
Tomorrow she will cry again. Because of some mean boys at school.
In ten years she will fall in love with some of those same boys.
They will break her heart.
But not before some of them use her.
"This is my favorite green because it's like the Spring-time."
In twenty years, she will pour every drop of herself into her own children.
Her husband will sneak away to think about other women.
He will stop wanting her.
"I don't have gold so her crown's going to be yellow. Is that okay?"
In forty years, she will be alone again.
And wonder what happened.
"I'm gonna color her castle next."
In eighty years, she will lie in a bed in an institution and soil herself.
The person cleaning her up will loathe her.
He will not stop to consider that once, a long time ago...
... there was a man who watched her color and adored her utterly.
