Paternal Portrait

Abstract

Fatherly Portrait
Lucía Gabriela Vindas Vargas

My father carries in every fold of his skin
countless stories guarded
by the white hydrangeas of his hair;
while his childlike brow drifts among riddles,
and he collects sayings to never grow old.

In his hands, miracles are recurring,
turning the mundane into acts of tenderness:
leather, fabrics, wood, metals, and plastics
morph at his touch,
as he imbues each with his craft.

He used to sell smiles
wrapped in bread paper,
and preserved Sunday traditions
at the early morning general store;
besides taming bees
and chatting with them in the shade of some almond tree.

When his wicker-like bones were stronger,
he hauled sugarcane and coffee
with his dream-filled tractor;
and captured the bygone days of his stitched pupil
with his small sepia-toned camera.

He fell in love with my mother on a Corpus Christi day,
and since then, filled her bed with devotions,
laid the foundations for the fertile plot of their marriage
where they forged the six lives that carry on his legacy,
those six lives that now strive to resemble, if only a little,
the unparalleled portrait that bears his name.