I’m never as serious

as I am now.

I am a Him.

As male and obnoxious,

or caring and visceral,

as any female human.

I stand on my own,

principals, goals,

drives driving me toward the

father I don’t want to be.

I won’t be another HIM,
just the Him I am.

I won’t beat my children

with the end of a fishing rod.

I won’t pull the daughters around the floor

by their hair.

I won’t finger their innocence

because of uncontrollable

hatreds.

Or I won’t be with a Her,

or I will sheath my manhood

like the gloved hand

with a finger in the dyke.

No more water,

no more collateral damages,

no more babies.

I am a him, as best as I can be.

I love, respect, and still want.

More than all the world,

I want more than I need.

All too often,

forgetting that I

gave it all

for them.