Echo’s Song to Her Lover
“Mother made Frank smell her Bible
she knew he loved the aroma of fine leather”
— CAConrad, The Book of Frank
It was my father who taught me how to drive. When I sat
in the passenger seat, he said with a glint in his eye,
if I made a mistake, he would punch my shoulder, hard.
“It is how I trained your mother.”
I could die of compassion. All this suffering, everywhere.
How can anyone muster enough hope, desire, or will
to invest in finitude? Of course, our candle fizzles
and every song knows little doves
learn the crackle of aching from belts in sharp nests.
Father in our presence. Father in our midst.
Father on the terrace. Father on the swings.
Father, I don’t blame you.
God made everything beautiful, terrible and beautiful,
as well as narcissists.
About the Author: Nada Faris is an Honorary Fellow in Writing at Iowa University’s International Writing Program. She has earned an MFA in Creative Writing from Columbia University, received an Arab Woman Award from Harper’s Bazaar Arabia for her impact on Kuwait’s creative sector, and authored three international books.
Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Sunset Reeds in Klamath Falls” (2020)