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Home » High Critique » Is this prose poetry, narrative or a madeup story

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4/2/2011 10:12:13 AM

dave archuletta
Posts: 8

Through Eyes that Bind

It is through the eyes of my infant child that seen humility as a can of whoop-ass to make us see our selfish nature:

Regardless of my argued reasons that justified leaving for weeks, and then making a triumphant return home, my intent was to make atonements for being a missing father to my infant daughter. However, it was after holding her high above me and our eyes had met, when this reunion, in an instant had left me feeling badly.
My sadness drew born because her face held without an expression of joy in the welcoming of me home.
This is when a simple act by this child instantly humbled my very being and left me feeling ingratiated by her presence.
Epiphany from such striking means of enlightenment could evermore not of happened in same silent manner!
It had occurred while I was still holding her aloft just slightly overhead. This is when slowly; my daughter began outlining of the contours of my face with her downwardly extended hand. Upon finishing and raising it up and back under her chest, it wasn’t but an instant after what came next that I knew something special had transpired – with a life-changing profoundness…
…It is still my belief that the intent of this baby daughter was that I see and feel this same hand’s tiny pointing fingertip, now accusingly come down slowly until out of view to gently place upon my forehead - seemingly to stay forever.
A sense of fear had now swept over me in the form of analogy…
I hadn’t seen my daughter in weeks, and in this vision her extended forefinger and thumb had transformed into a sword with hilted guard and unseen pommel attached to a wide shaft with two razor sharp edges plummeting to a pointed tip.
This was my inferred life arraigned and put to the question of life’s promises made!
I had to come back to this daughter…; if not - what would be her fate? – Or my own?
I momentarily closed my eyes, being shortly thereafter recognized by me as nuance of subjugation. Incredulously, upon an unmasking for restored sight, occurred a vision instead, there was her innocence that had let my mind see!
It happened upon lifting this fingertip that became her sword’s point; she then laid the finger flat on my nose and smiled a smile.
This was not a Coup de Grat arraigned; my daughter had just knighted my soul sustained!
edited by Dave Archuletta on 4/2/2011
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