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When my son was born
(when he first opened his eyes on the world)
I was infinitely older than him.
When he was one year old
I was just 34 times older than him.
When he was 33
I was 66, just twice his age.
I guess that was the year
That I realized
That he was catching up to me.
Also, when he was born I was
Infinitely more affluent than he
(in the currency of knowledge and worldly experience).
Now the tables are turning.
He questions many of my assumptions
Taking much of what I say
With a grain of uniodized sea salt.
He reminds me, usually tactfully,
To stop doing things that annoy him
Such as incessantly tongue-clicking tunes of old songs
Like my mother, his grandmother did.
He willingly lifts and carries things for me
Because I have a bad back.
He slows down on the path
When we are heading out somewhere together.
He sometimes patiently describes
Something in nature
That I can't see or hear.
On Father's Day he said some nice things about me.
If there was a Son's Day
I would lavish praises on him.
But since there is no such day
I'll just say right now,
While it is on my mind,
There is no one I would
Rather surrender the lead to
Than him.
And furthermore I would like to acknowledge
That, even though he is my son
He is chiefly his own person
Just as I am more than a father.
On the 4th of July,
A holiday that passes through me
Like a slow-motion wave
That seems to lift others
But leaves me cold
And shipwrecked,
I found myself feeling sad that our president
Is too deaf, dumb and blind
To encourage someone younger
To take the lead.
But sadder still is the reality
That there is no young blood
Stepping forward with a vision
For salvaging (or is it resurrecting)
Our sorry excuse for a democracy
That allows a convicted felon
To run for the top office in the land.
We have been staying on Monhegan Island
For the last two weeks.
Monhegan is small enough that you
Can walk around its extremities
In less than half a day
Starting in the village at the harbor,
Heading south around the point
(there is a small path, trust me)
Past the bench by Jamie's House,
Past the wreck of the DT Sheridan
Along the cliffs to Pulpit Rock and Pebble Beach
And back to the village
By the Ice Pond and the School House.
When we left the island this time,
It felt like we were leaving one island
For another, an island sequestered
By force fields of fear and shame.
On the 4th of July I wished it was the 5th.
When I heard the fireworks
Muffled by distance over the ridge
All I could think of was how much that sounded like war,
And that would be the war inside me
Between my pacifism and the way of the world
That I am passing on to people like my son
Who just might know how to
Live here better than I did
When I was ahead on the path.
(Article changed on Jul 07, 2024 at 10:14 AM EDT)
(Article changed on Jul 07, 2024 at 10:30 AM EDT)
