Thursday, September 27, 2012

Passing on a Poem

My brother sent me this little poem this morning. I'd like to post it as Part 2 to Crazy Pants

I love my boy, today he has reorganized the kitchen pantry, pretended to be an Olympic diver, watched dogs and their people walk past the house, matched some color blocks together, had three snacks, and peed on the floor twice. I think he too will save the rainforest...


My eleven year son wants to fish,
he owns two rods, one saltwater,
one freshwater. He loves knives,
Bowie knives, Swiss Army
knives, "Knives like this one?"
my brother says, opening his desk
drawer and taking out a small
jackknife with antler handle.
My boy camps outdoors, begs to sleep
outside, is always shooting
arrows, rubber band guns,
he is lashing together a fort
in the backyard. He sails,
swims, kayaks and wants
to know the stars.
The outdoor hunting genes
are in the dark men in my family.
Yet I believe he is a son of light.
His joy in reading, cooking
and piano are fanned
from the tinderbox
of his father's heart.
He will save rainforest,
he will grow vegetables,
keep horses, fly his own plane.
He will make his own brave life,
he will not remake our lives
nor redeem us, nor pity us.
"Genes" by Sharon Dunn, from Refugees in the Garden: A Memoir in Poems.

the link to this poem is at Writers Almanac today. 

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