A Writing Journey

Photographs on my desktop.
The smiles and the eyes
Look in my direction.
A young Mohamed wearing a tie and cardigan,
a slight gap in his knowing smile 
Exposing a sliver of white.
My parents, holding each other,
dressed for a wedding
And posing on a dusty road;
My father’s bent knee and
An open stance;
my mother clasping her handbag
leaning into my father.
My mother, sister and I
one Christmas;
my sister’s grin lifts her face,
my mother’s sideway glance in my direction.
I hug her arm tightly.
My father before he knew me,
His suit and tie fit him perfectly.
He smiles wide and open
Almost like he is laughing.
He looks forward,
Optimistic and hopeful.
His forehead is framed by soft locks and a part,
His eyebrows, dark, and guarding
Eyes that sing.
I look back into those eyes,
The many eyes that look in my direction
In the photographs on my desktop.
They watch me.
They remind me.
They comfort me.
They bring me back.
They push me forward.
I miss those faces from the past,
But I feel their eyes on me every day
And I am grateful.