Thursday, August 13, 2009

Written for P just before he was born

little one if these leaves of grass
do not soothe
i hope
the captain's verses do
each night a little insight for little one
who cannot understand
nor hear everything
but feel vibrations
of the madman with wild white hair
among the blades
we hope for you good nights
sleep
dreams
movement, words, music
that carry we do not hope you to be
"artist"
see instead the living of life as an art
and fill your thoughts
with imaginative kindness
blade by blade
green by green each burnt to a crisp
of meaning for future reference
love of all loves made you
together we rise, that song you have liked
along the way
we have moved twisted swords
built worded armies
to combat this world
and its disappeal making new words
as necessary
like Germans
ear to ear
listening

and if your first word starts with an F
we will laugh
we only ask you not become a 20-something
smoking weed in a park with a can of cream soda and a cell phone
continue kicking as hard as you kick now
a lung a rib
a kidney
we will recognize you when you come
sounding your yawp
barbarically
musically
kickingly

(Lucy Rupert, June 25 2009)