Next poem is a similar situation at least emotionally.
It's a poem spoken by a father to a son
as the son is making ready to leave home.
And I think you'll clearly be aware of a pattern
of reframed pattern in the poem.
To me it's an attempt to hold on to the moment
and to try to get it right.
Very often when we've been in a situation
where we haven't said to someone else what we wanted
to say we think back on that and in our minds
we act it out over again hoping to find the right words.
I had a Mexican dinner and I'm paying for it now.
"Departing Words to a Son."
"We choose to say goodbye against our will.
Home will take on stillness when you're gone, remember us
but don't dwell on the past.
Here, wear this watch my father gave to me.
Home will take on stillness when you're gone.
We'll leave your room as is at least for now.
Here, wear this watch my father gave to me.
His face dissolves within the whirling snow.
We'll leave your room as is at least for now.
I'll dust the model boats that sail your wall.
His face dissolves within the whirling snow.
It's hard to picture someone else's life.
I'll dust the model boats that sail your wall.
Don't lose the watch, the inside is engraved.
It's hard to picture someone else's life.
Your window's full of icicles again.
Don't lose the watch, the inside is engraved.
A wedge of geese head somewhere out of sight.
Your window's full of icicles again.
Look how the icicles reflect the moon.
A wedge of geese head somewhere out of sight.
My father knew the distances we keep.
Look how the icicles reflect the moon.
The moonlight shimmers wave-like on your wall.
My father knew the distances we keep.
Your mother sometimes cries out in the night.
The moonlight shimmers wave like on your wall.
One June I dove too deep and nearly drowned.
Your mother sometimes cries out in the night.
She dreams the windy snow has covered her.
One June I dove too deep and nearly drowned.
She says she's watched me shudder in my sleep.
She dreams the Windy snow has covered her.
She's heard your lost screen stretch across the snow.
She says she's watched me shudder in my sleep.
We all conceive the loss of what we love.
She's heard your lost scream stretch across the snow.
My need for her clenched tighter at your birth.
We all conceive the loss of what we love.
Our love for you has given this house breath.
My need for her clenched tighter at your birth.
Stillness deepens pulsing in our veins.
Our love for you has given this house breath.
Someday you'll pass this watch on to your son.
Stillness deepens pulsing in our veins,
my father's words still speak out from the watch.
Someday you'll pass this watch on to your son repeating what
the goldsmith has etched there.
My father's words still speak out from the watch.
As moonlit icicles drip on your sill repeating
with the goldsmith has etched there,
we choose to say goodbye against our will."