Sunday

I Live


Part I:

Blissful
was that bouncing baby boy

Crying from the depths of his sacred soul
once again, I live.
once again,              I breathe.

you can tear me apart with your
cold, unwanting eyes
and you can break me down to half a man
but somewhere, there's a greater purpose.
I live.

and the snapshots began.


Part II:

And his life was spotted with occasions and traumas
tiger costumes and chicken pox
cavities and promotions.

The thirty-sixth woman became his wife
The thirteenth job became his life

9000 miles a year salary and commission
twice he missed a flight that crashed
three times the rental car was stolen
His brandy helped to soften the bite
of life's complications

The purpose that was so real and so powerful at first
was not enough to be graded as an essay
he was scolded
and spanked

So he set out to dissect and to be dissected
to learn the names,
to learn the capabilities of the human mind
he found his intelligence to be painful
there were many drawbacks
there were many occasions where he suffered deeply
and neared suicide

His purpose kept him going
but it was no consolation.


Part III:

And he climbed that hill of life out of desperation,
out of fear,
out of a silent hope that kept him empty
in his soul at night

Retirement came
he watched his grandchildren grow
into their own tiger costumes and chicken pox
and cavities and promotions

He stopped working
- he had always hated work

He stopped doing
- he was never a man of action

and he sat in his chair and he thought
his dentures clicked to a slow, contemplative rhythm
but a deeper stronger sense of purpose prevailed:

I live.

- Sept. 29, 1985, A.D.