doublecheck

every now and again
when my belongings
seem to be put away
a little too neatly
and the answers
a little too rote
I’ll shimmy up the old fence
to a familiar vantage point
a well-worn spot
and dangle a leg over
each side of What If
smile and shake my head
at how alike the views
still are
two versions
of the same reality
on each side
my car’s engine light
stubbornly lit
the washing machine
just a skosh off level
the people a maddening mix
of good intention
and poor execution
my midsection
losing dual battles
with gravity and metabolism
same number of hours
same number of days
work to do
time to spend
money to make
bills to pay
back to work
sleep to catch up on
I scan the side I abandoned
ponder what I gave up
and turn and see for what
the choices again before me
as stark and plain
and murky
as in my last consideration
did I—do I—
do the right thing?
the strange comfort
of second guessing
I wonder if this side
where I staked my claim
the path I set off on long ago
really cost me anything
what’s truly at stake
in picking one
in not picking one
I wonder
if all the things
I think are big
and treat as small
if all the things
I measure life by
and live oblivious to
are really devoid of meaning
if the choices are the same
either way
six of one
half-dozen
a wash
then I remember
a few huge
invisible
intangible differences:
hope that manages fear
though never erasing it
love that covers wrongs
without preventing them
truth that is real enough
to permit lies to flourish
these things I cannot see
and utterly depend on
may well exist
on both sides
but I can only choose one
the paradox unravels
the choice is not on a side
but inside
carried with me
wherever I go
I win either way
and I have no choice
but to be chosen

right
now I remember

deep breath
exhale
pressure off
I climb back down
the way I came
and carry a lightness
that defies explanation
and a few splinters as well
to mark my trip

August 2007

light of mine

I trade in words
persuade, describe
bind, release
negotiate
with many zeroes at stake
then come home
and have no words
to describe the wonder
that is my child
I am amazed speechless
challenged
stretched
inspired
humbled
amused
flummoxed
by this little light of mine

so much power
such small hands
gatekeeper of our joy
dictater of moods
dictator in every room
meandering instantly
between gales of laughter
so pure
they almost emit
their own bright new color
then protesting howls
equally earnest
writhing fistpounding fits
even asleep
her potential energy
is palpable
the room buzzes
her batteries charge
every mood high octane
to be ignited
by the smallest random fact
pouring gasoline
on this little light of mine

we struggle daily
with a set of perfectly reasonable
completely flawed premises:
that we can lead her
to make a single choice
that our love
will determine her path
that our words
can decisively shape her
that our hopes
are right and unselfish
that defining manners
will make her polite
that ultimately
we own one iota
of her personality
we wonder
if we are more than just sitters
keeping watch for a day
for her real Dad
if we could ever claim
to be anything more
than astonished witnesses
to this little light
if we could ever even pretend
that this little light
is ours

August 2007

way

everybody wins:
anything else
an approximate grace
a synthetic
manmade
substitute
half-Truth
on the way
but not the Way

the Way
is a man
not a mantra
a direction
not an equation
transforming action
not a transaction
a methodology
not a theology
a pearl in a field
to be discovered
or passed over
underfoot
under all

this mercy
the shocking openness
the sheer availability
sometimes lost in translation
the context is crucial
intended as comfort
a farewell assurance
a promise
a weightless yoke:
love my way
it’s the new rule
superseding
engulfing
covering
all before it

mistaken as a wall
misused as a sword
misapplied as limiting
and combined
with dangerous words—
election, chosen, few—
this mercy
has disabled many
its simplicity
simply missed:
the Way
the Truth
is His life

August 2007

solace

nothing I can buy
nothing I can drink
nothing I can eat
no amount of sleep
nothing I can play
nothing I can store
nothing I can save
no amount of stuff
nothing I can read
nothing I can watch
nothing I can write
no amount of fun
no place I can go
no place I can stay
no place I can hide
nowhere I can run
nothing I can plant
nothing I can feed
nothing I can raise
nothing I can grow
nothing I can free
nothing I can tame
nothing I can hold
nothing I can know
nothing I can say
nothing I can think
nothing I can wish
even nothing I can pray
will ever add to
or take away
what who where why
I am today
to believe more
to believe less
is delusion
futile
foolishness
ah, man
amen

August 2007

swim lesson

monitoring your progress
in the water
I am astonished
at how much
you carry with you
at how swiftly
you learn this crucial skill
I see you—
determined
remarkably unafraid
calm, businesslike
churning with choppy strokes
to keep afloat
and doing it well
oblivious
to my semi-audible
poolside chatter
encouraging thoughts
that spill out of my head

I am proud and cautious
unable to help you
(already)
mindful that there is more
in the water
more swimming
than you see
or understand
that within this act
of independence
of survival
of recreation
lies a powerful
metaphor
of independence
of survival
of recreation
it is movement
away from
hard, concrete, safe
familiar walls
it is movement
toward
deeper ends
maybe a helping
steadying hand
maybe exhaustion
or new stark perceptions
of limitations
maybe endless
surprising energy
and buoyancy

your body will grow
your technique improve
new strokes
stronger lungs and limbs
bigger pools
bodies of water
that engulf horizons
but always
the physical task
of staying afloat
of moving
away and toward
completely yours
and though unaware now
you will know
soon enough
that the strange added weight
you cannot quantify
and the extra
unexpected boost
helping propel you past
where you believed you could go
are the proud, cautious
hopes, fears, dreams
of others
that you—
with ebullience
with enthusiasm
with élan—
will artfully
swimmingly
master
this metaphor
in all its permutations

August 2007