Poem: Legacy

The twistedness of what we leave as legacy might yet be redeemed.

Legacy In a life too stingy with permissions, he learned so late to give his own His first denied, to enter life with grace, slapped instead to wailing awareness, then torn (unasked) from breast to bottle         The world is colder than the womb Permission denied and then denied again to shit benignly in a diaper, smiling and untrained, or cross a street, question the parental voice, to cry in some unmanly way at hurts, his growing-up life a rhetoric of learned denial         Not sure he likes this place Industrialized youth, life as part of an assembly, Stamped, pressed, bottled and capped by forces Not his own, a shape as unknown to his soul As foreign language, catching in his throat A manly age, unprepared to be a man         But it’s expected and projected Son to husband to father, struggling and stained Looking for reflection in all those other eyes A darkened glass in search of light and warmth Handed off worn tools to build as best he can These faded monuments to dreams gone by         Too young for all the dreams to pass Yet any age is old enough to learn new skills To feel the warm encouraging embrace of hope The finding of permissions late in life Reflection of self worth in bathroom mirrors Gifts given late, the legacy of other generations         Never too late to pass a good thing on

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection BROKEN PIECES available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.