Little Remains of the Unexamined Man

One can not be their own father
if your father is stolen from your life
the pattern of masculine love
the comfort and security in an uncertain time
is lost
you can not fill this void with self help
you can not heal this with bravado,
fighting, cursing, drinking, sports, nor guns
Verbs can not take the place of the father
the steady hand when you are shaking
the enveloping warmth of a hug larger than yourself
when your self is so small and vulnerable
a single leaf trembling in the wind
you can not be your father
you can not replace your father
you will carry with you that absence
and either learn from it or die from it

I am now the man I am because of this void

I chased the stories of manhood
like Hemingway in the Savanna , like Melville out whaling
I sought it in the wilder places
like Vonnegut and Mailer and Heller I sought it in war
I found that these tests and lessons
do not make a man a man
they make a man tired, a braggart, humble and sly
or whatever a man can become
but they do not make him a man
that is innate and these were simply lessons
lessons that inform the conscious person of his natural capacity
a capacity for sin and venal acts
a capacity for charity and sacrifice
or a tendency to sullenly withdraw into a shell
like some ancient turtle of destiny
carrying the burden of all mankind's testes on his back

what a useless pursuit that would be

sex and fighting and career building and home ownership
hunting and fishing and war games
marathons and black belts
college degrees and really deadly fast cars
and impressive Japanese combat knives
will never make me a man
and they have not told one who the hell this man is
they are pretty damned cool things I guess
but ultimately they are nothing
but a shroud to place on the mantle
after the burial only the love and hate
the man has inspired will remain