I took the day off so my wife could clean for a friend's house. I got the joy of being with my son, Tito for the day. This day will one happen once as all days only occur once. No new insight, I know, but one that has to be realized every day. This poem just came to me hanging out with my son. Somehow I think we have forgotten how to live face to face. Martin Buber's famous quote from I and Thou: "All real living is meeting." has been sticking in my mind like bubblegum. Meeting my son, meeting my God, meeting the heat of the summer, all reveals real life.
The Middle of Just One Day
Drinking the day of heat, he stands
with his head facing up toward the sun.
He gulps from a recycled water bottle.
The pomegranate molasses laced water pours
down his neck, and he remembers,
the Hebrew words for neck and soul
are the same word. Neck and soul
are interchangeable for God’s chosen.
His son runs around with plastic
forged in shapes of red, blue, and yellow
cars. In the distance a railroad sounds
and the little boy, startled and happy,
Yells, “I hear Cho Cho ... listen. Cho Cho...”
Joy pores off the brow, arms and legs
of the man and the boy. The wind blows like
the spirit’s breath on this hot day, clover sprouts
in the middle of the grass lawn. Three summers
alive, the boy learns new words and sentences
everyday “plum, jet plane, honeydew, crayon,
and I don’t like it” and forgets the real. We are
all destine to forget the real,
the man thinks. He picks up
the big wheel, the cars as it is
time for boy’s nap.