Father's Day, Fathers' Fault"

We sell World's Best Dad mugs

to men who quietly resigned.

We raise our glasses to the absent

while eighteen million empty chairs

teach silence at birthday tables.

The first man a child loves

should not be a receipt —

not a wire transfer with no voice,

not a photo someone captions: #Blessed.

A child can survive a day without bread.

But starving for I'm proud of you hollows out diplomas,

marriages, and grief.

What government counts the empty bleachers?

What law weighs the That's my son

that never crossed a father's lips?

Child support is not presence.

DNA is not a parent.

Father is a verb: to show up.

On a Tuesday. For a scraped knee.

For the 2 a.m. call 

you answer broke, exhausted, and without hesitation.

Your daughter will choose a man

shaped by the grammar of your absence.

Your son will become a father

with the alphabet your hands left him.

History remembers crowns.

Children remember who applauded.

The world does not need wealthy fathers.

It needs fathers who don't wait for June

to pretend they exist.

The darkest sentence is not

My father is dead.

It is: My father saved fatherhood for Father's Day 

one performance a year.

Close the card.

Open your arms.

Be the verb. Not the ghost.

Pierre Richard Raymond 

#Culture509.