My Father

I am a greater, and lesser, man than my father —

greater that I am the result of his wishes, the changes
and improvements I made to him; lesser because
of his achievements, his fierce life, all I do not know
about him, his black hair aflame; after my bath he

would lift me, weightless, in his arms, a moment
he gave to me that I will always hold, free, time
less how it resonates, how in his arms I yearned;
how in his arms I learned how a father loves, how

a man holds his son.