Begin Again: Father to Son by Len Kuntz

Maybe now you can see the stars
leaning bright-tipped above your head.
And perhaps you notice how,
if you stitch them together,
they become glowing jump ropes,
the clouds as children
leaping and yodeling over arc shadows in a twilit park.
Sometimes we have to learn to love other things
and nature is what sutures,
what heals,
placing a palm on the middle of our back,
a bit like a demanding nurse
gently prodding, pushing and pulling us up on our feet
so that we might begin again.
Sometimes we have to choose others
which really just means loving ourselves first and foremost.
This is no rebuke, no judgment. There’s enough of that in the world.
But, Dear Son,
the noose and the blade are no one’s friend,
so please
please give them up for once.
If you can’t do it alone,
at least take my hand.
Here.
Good. Thank you.
Up we go now, off this bed and out that door
and into the night,
cool air on our skins,
crickets and stars and smell of weed grass everywhere.
Ah, through a cloud scarf
the moon has just this second peeked out,
perfectly pale and round.
Do you see it? Yes?
Won’t you take a step and stand where I’m standing?
Why don’t you get a really good look
and, if you think you can,
raise your voice and tell her
how beautiful she is.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s