Ah yes, well we do infect our children with our own insecurities and it's a crippling thing. |
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Fear of FlyingThe time of childhood, all things rememberedsticky and sweet, skinned knees and friends hugging unselfconsciously, with open arms Fathers flying kites, boats rowed through lakes Teaching by adult example, fear of flying Sand castles, on their sun splashed beach hiding blueprints of a life to come Who knows when just a child, the width of that foundation, how strong the mortar Welded in conformity, following commands Making their lives, hardly weaned a deconstruction, teachings spoken false Carried from us, to some breeding place the seeds of all this discontent to sow in fertile furrows of their children’s minds Generations, yet unborn need no infection of a parent’s seed Each newborn, slipping from the womb comes perfectly, wondrously into light To be only left alone, never crushed Cradled, rocked, picked up now and then Dusted off, smiled at, sometimes hugged The light born in those eyes, is quite enough to show a path, no one else may ever see that leads from youth to middle age, eternity I Understand Your eyes say the loan committee would like me better in a Borsalino hat And feel absolutely all the more secure if I wore Georgio Armani while making application I understand There was a time I felt the same before the last five loans all were paid on time Then I knew the way to play the game in those days when guts were my only asset |
This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection THE SMELL OF TWEED AND TOBACCO available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats. |