from The Book of Hours, and: For My Daughter, and: Academic Freedom

from The Book of Hours

Every time Son looks up at the sun,He says he can’t help thinking

That the light on his face isBoth ancient and new—

The light having taken millionsOf years to reach the sun’s surface

And then only eight more minutesTo get to his eyes.

“In other words,” Father says, “there’s no pastAs remote as the recent past.”

“No, Dad,” Son says, “it’s just thatWhen you die maybe it won’t

Be any worse than my eyesBlinded for a moment by a star.”

For My Daughter

I should have taught you that it’s easierTo forgive a malignant person than a malignant tumor.

I should have taught you to undo hateBy the minutes spent with relatives in peace and quiet,

By the blanks nobody knew were empty.Sometimes the obvious stated with clarity

Has consequences. Speak when broken.Ache when opened. The best one can

Say about the world is: Author Unknown.And yet I try following the path of Sister Gertrude Morgan,

Picturing God nearby in order to keep meFar away from you. If you ever feel

The need to talk to me again, I grantYou permission to write any sentence you want.

Academic Freedom