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Fired by Love’s Employment
Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays, every day
my father got up early to see me —
climbing out of bed, driving on highways:
endless stretches along the concrete seas.
The creak of a door, the bark of a dog —
I knew it was time to greet my loved one.
Innocence blocked my sight of the backlog:
his pain in seeing bonds become undone.
A caring chemist coming from afar
guides his son through the labyrinth of school.
Inspecting hydrocarbons within tar,
he longs to cheer on his son in the pool.
Courageously, he takes a leap of faith —
quitting his job, yet employed by love’s wraith.
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In this Elizabethan sonnet, I seek to express my gratitude and appreciation for my father and parents everywhere. One can be a doctor, engineer, writer, or even unemployed, yet the ultimate occupation is that of a parent.