11:59 a.m. Friday...
January 18, 2008
T ime-stamp; 11:59 a.m. Friday, January 18, 2008. Fired off the manuscript to Toronto. Hit send. Breathe. Exhale the book into the world. It’s been an incredible four weeks. Intensely involved with this huge cast of characters, who were, for the most part, very well behaved. There were a few surprises. There were unexplained, unexpected, and unrequired kindnesses. And Newfoundland. I fell in love with Newfoundland!!! And now what? Well, for the rest of the day, I feel lightheaded…goofy. Wine later. A few swirly glasses of red.
For those not on my “sorbet” list, this was today’s sorbet….
she becomes herself
I don’t have a cent on me, andhe asks for change, a dime, a quarter, anything.
The trick is, while you are trying to find a dime
or a quarter in your hand full of change, there will be
loonies and toonies as well.
We are on Whyte Avenue, my daughter’s hand in mine.
I tell him sorry, I have nothing today.
“’s all right,” he says, and we walk on by.
We are perhaps thirty feet beyond this man,
and she stops, checks her pockets. “I might have coins,” she says.
She finds no coins, but two chocolate kisses, and determined,
despite my: “I don’t think that’s what he’s looking for…” she runs
back to him, and he holds out his hand, and she gives him the chocolates.
I don’t know what she said, but I saw his face.
I’m pretty sure he thanked her.
Then he looked down the sidewalk toward me,
and nodded. Inside this nod is something like a resigned gratefulness,
a tattered prayer, a human moment outside the game.
When she gets back to me,
I pull my teacher in close to my hip
and don’t say a word.
3 Comments
1. deb had this to say: Jan 19, 2008 ~ 19:04 ~ #
A child can always teach us more than we know. Your daughter sounds like a compassionate, kind young woman. You should be proud of her.
3. Thomas had this to say: Jan 21, 2008 ~ 10:49 ~ #
Thanks…
I worry about the morality of this poem. Because it is, by design, a raw, unfinished piece, the months of reflection are not there. The multiple re-writes are not there. I hope it’s not perceived as cute, or trivializing (romanticizing) the homeless. There’s a parable about the widow who gives only two copper coins to a charity while the rich people around her give far more. But her gift is more than all the rest put together, because she is giving all she has, and the rich are only giving a small portion of their fortunes. This parable is part of this poem, not all of it, but part. I like the moment of this piece. The step outside the game, the recognition of something real…anyway, I hope I have been moral. I hope my perceptions of the world are mostly moral. I do not think the little girl is cute. I think she’s just doing what she feels is right. She gives everything she has and because she equates begging with hunger, the chocolates are entirely appropriate.
Ahhh….