I don’t know what it is about this poem that really resinates with me. I find it incredible. If you like music you probably love poetry, you just don’t know it yet. I like that poetry doesn’t need music to be a song. I think there is something vulnerable about performing poetry that is beautiful. It lets people in, it shakes things up.
I was just sitting next to a dad who was teaching his kids art. This dad is in a wheelchair and drives one of those van conversons for folks who can’t walk. He was fathering his children, leading them to a deeper understanding of drawing comics. They were even reading Calvin and Hobbs. (some of my favorite reading as a kid) He wasn’t cynical. I am sure there are dark days for him. Being paralyzed from the waist down and having two boys must be difficult. But this was a guy who shook the dust. He didn’t let it get to him, at least not from what I saw.
I began to see his life as poetry.
I couldn’t hear what he was saying or what what his kids were saying. But there was something there. Maybe it was the gentleness and the genuine happiness he appeared to have. I don’t see that with the working stiff.
Maybe it was the Love for his boys.
Whatever it was. I had a hard time not staring at this guy. Not watching him interact with his kids. There was a redemptive quality about it.
I wonder how people see my interactions with others. I wonder if anyone really sees? I wonder if people see my bent for peace and redemption. Or do they see a working stiff?Share