Carissa Poem by Martins Akhoeneto

(For my second daughter)

You came after Olivia,
but never afterthought.
You entered my life
like morning
finding the room
after a long night.

Carissa,
your name rests in me
like a small bell
the heart can hear
above the world's noise.

I have watched you grow
with wonder in your eyes,
your little hands busy
with the ordinary treasures
children make precious.

A pencil, a ribbon,
a little crayon worn short,
things the world may overlook,
but a father learns
to remember.

And when life keeps me away,
when roads grow longer
than they should,
remember this:

distance can stretch a road,
but never a father's love.

You are my second daughter,
never second in my heart.
For love does not rank
what it calls its own.

If one day you ask
what I wished for you,
I will not ask for riches
or a life without sorrow.

I will ask for courage
that does not harden you,
kindness that does not diminish you,
and the wisdom
to remain yourself
when the world asks you
to become someone else.

When life makes you doubt
the woman you are becoming,
remember:

before you could name
the woman you would be,
I was already learning
the little girl you were,
the questions,
the laughter,
the things you held
as though they mattered.

Carissa,
you are not a second star
because you came second.

You are the particular light
your name brought with it.

And wherever your feet
eventually carry you,
whatever roads
you call your own,

there will always be
a place in me
where your name
is not memory,

but home.