Friday, July 3, 2015

We don't know what happens

   Possibly I am not alone in an
   inheritance from my father of
   a preference for a little less
   "truth and reconciliation" in
   "frank and open discussion" of
   shared catastrophe, than many
   propose today, possibly because
   of subjunctive and conditional
   constructions of speech we are
   given, to hedge our testimony.
   I respect the rigors of reti-
   cence, even more than the ec-
   stasies of complaint and con-
   fession. I trust their prize.

   Today would be the 101st birth-
   day of the only man my culture
   could countenance, after for-
   mative years, my having loved.

   Our private catastrophes, which
   were notable enough at the time,
   led us both to experience being
   witnesses to transition we were
   adapted to appraising only with
   amazement, and shared sorrow.

   People say, on the strength of
   a couple of speeches, that this
   culture is changing. As much as
   we have been educated to observe
   what did go wrong, in strangers
   of long ago, we tend to sense a
   disconnect from theories when we
   engage in each other's lives. An
   honest man reads Horace just this

   Moderation, reticence. I celeb-
   rate a father. This is his leg-
   acy, if one could claim it. Do
   go gentle, rage not against the
   dark. Arms are near. Open them.

No comments:

Post a Comment