Showing posts from 2013

Returning from a cruise

Returning from a cruise

coming into view now
are the distant first lights of a predawn Miami
shapes dotted with neon
the causeway came into sight
and then the beautiful highway over it
and even as I enjoyed the sweep of car headlights around the wide swing in the road
my heart began to race
a swift pounding gaining rhythm and intensity
a familiar companion, yet instinctively unwelcome
the fight or flight response
the stuff of sunday nights and monday mornings
It was as simple as this...
Its the first highway i've seen in 4 days
the first signs of an early morning work commute
and the first signs of the first world, the civilized world
and a rebellion is breaking out in my body and mind!
So where have we arrived...
a life of some affluence
that has its moments of fun and reward
but one we'd rather run and hide from?
So here I am on this boat finding solace in a quiet secluded world,
having wandered an island and relished its 'backward' culture

Ace goes to college:

Ace goes to college:

..dropped of Ahsan to college
my first child moves on
out of my house - his home
and into a new address
heading into manhood
striving for adulthood
en-route to a full citizenship of this world
So tell me O world of time and space
when does a child become a man?
Is it when he moves out of our space, or
when he alone decides what to do with his time?
Is it when his mom no longer cooks him dinner, or
when he dorms in a roomful of strangers?
youth is an insulation from deep thought and emotion
that allows him to move onward
while I stand frozen
even as I consider his future.
Its amazing that these pangs of nervousness that I feel for him
are not reflected in him
nor were they in mine as I stood at the same threshold
some thirty years ago.
The realness of those words hits me now
'your children are entrusted to your care for a short time, but beware
you don't own them'.
Its funny because when you first get them, they are yours,

Bye Bye Sienna..

Bye Bye Sienna.

My car crashed today
its organs were crushed
its skeleton are smashed
it behaved just as it was designed to
...absorbed the hit and spared the human
It wasn't a meditated or premeditated act
not like a guard taking a bullet for a president
not like protecting a child from a rainstorm
and certainly it was without heroism or cowardice.
a week later as I finger that departed car's key on my keychain
I feel that emptiness of loss
of the departure of a long time friend
of a confidant
of family...
Of one who had endured patiently for a hundred and fifty thousand miles,
our angry brakings mixed with angry words
reckless accelerations and declarations
speedy cornering and nervous cheers
out-of-control motion and emotions.
And what's more, it did all this without a whimper or a breakdown.
My van had
witnessed the genesis of a family
the journey of my boyz to men
the soft touch of a girl, after
the roughing up by my boys
the evolution of our relationships

Banjara Hills, Road no.9 - A byway of my youth...

What will you write about You?

What will you write about You?          I love airports and planes, probably because I don’t travel much. I catch myself doing things I don’t normally don’t do like reading the obituaries in a local paper today.          I read about Miriam from Long Island who died at the Columbia Presbyterian in New York City. I wondered if she was rich and sought out the best medical care or was so acutely ill that it was necessary to be at Columbia. Rod, the next passage read, passed away at a hospice.  How long was he there, did he suffer through a prolonged illness, what toll did it take on his family or did they care? Joan, left us directly from her home as many of us pray we are able to do when the time comes. Margret last ‘was’ in her hospital bed and Leon’s family omitted telling us those details about his last stop. What else are they telling us about their now ‘passed’ family members? Their loved ones? Tolerated ones? Fun Ones? Pain-in-the-ass ones? For simplicity I’ll call them all loved one…

pictures on a plane

pics on a plane

I must be getting old.
as i look at the pictures one by one
of my kids from some ten, twenty years ago...
memories are starting to mean something to me
pictures are starting to talk back
and i find myself tuning in to the audiotrack
behind the stills,
behind the smiles 
of the joys of their childhood
of our family's childhood.
Its new,
this reflective self, not the emotive, but the reflective.
This shunning of the movie on offer this evening
the free headsets
and the drinks and peanuts.
What corner have I turned?
why does it matter what we did and how we did it
and where we did it
and who was happy and sad and naughty?
Suddenly I find so much pleasure in reconstructing
the frozen moments in those pictures
of retelling myself the events
of drilling down into the emotions of those visual moments
of rebuilding the context of those days
of those childhoods
of those interactions
of that love...
So much love
an overflowing of life's good fortune
cataloged in the pictures folder of my laptop