Poetry of David Pawson

What do I See, When I Look at You?
by David Pawson
© 1998

In response to a young girl's question.

What do I see, when I look at you?

I see the daughter I never had, the daughter I might have had.

I see diapers and scraped knees, training bras and tears. And a wedding dress, soon.

I see innocence and naiveté.

I see my own youthful dreams, shattered or forgotten, reexamined by a new dreamer.

I see a friend to guide, and to guide me, as we walk the path of life together for a while.

I see a person who has shown me a little more of myself, the best and the worst in me, but who loves me anyway, and honors me with the title "friend."

I see an escape from the consuming worries of work, fatherhood, and marriage; an opportunity to let myself believe that I am young and carefree once more.

I see that I am a foolish man, and have much yet to learn.

I see a girl yearning for someone to trust: in whom she can confide her darkest secrets and wildest dreams; someone who will give it to her straight, who will treat her like the adult she can't wait to be.

I see a young woman, standing at the crest of the highest hill in her short life, looking out, scared of what lay ahead, yet still anxious to see: a thousand tomorrows spread out before her, and ten thousand more beyond that, then another ten thousand again. Each tomorrow a gift, waiting to be opened, each bearing some new joy or sorrow, success or failure. All wrapped up in dreams of the future.

I see a girl who, because she is young, doesn't know that this hill is just another bump on the road. There are mountains ahead, and precipices. But, for now, there are only sunny days: there is still some childhood to come. For now, there are still Mom and Dad to build the bridges, to pay the tolls; teachers to show the way, to offer guidance; adult friends to point out traps and pitfalls.

What do I see, when I look at you?

I see a mound of clay, still being shaped, upon which I have been privileged to make my mark.

I see that I must take great care in my work, as you must now carry it with you always.

I see that I love you.