he gets so tired and never shows it
you’d think that after twenty years
of inflammation, surgery, hip
knees, shoulder replacements
that he’d age as well
but that handsome face
has a fire down in his gut–
that old soul that dreams of
the sea and articulates
actual pain in mounds of clay
he sculpts and smokes and
sips his tea, a traveler
of the world, a wander-lust,
a dreamer and realist
who taught me how to smoke
cigars on the train tracks in the rain
when we were twelve
who taught me how to be fearless
in this world where we get hurt
who taught me how to be twelve
forever in my heart, jumping off ledges
into unknown waters
he’s forever jumping off ledges
into unknown waters
and you oughta see him deny
how he gets pushed down
time after time
by his very own body, defying him,
and he gets up and shakes the dirt
and talks about California.
There aren’t many people out there
in this world that could quite compare
and so few know the treasure that he is
as a friend, as a comrad, as family
as a soul boundless and as free
as the wind across the water
he questions why he can’t get up
and he never quits trying
and if you pitied him the old man
in him would spit in your face
we don’t know where he’s been
but what kind of spirit does it take
to keep getting up
the sun in his eye
13 thoughts on “Mike”
Beautiful and so true. He doesn’t realize how wonderful he is. Xo
wow– too fabulous, Amy. I really like this. I can so relate–if you could see me, you’d understand. We get up and up because we don’t like the option….sensitive caring poem; gives me hope re being cared about by younger generation. xxxj
I don’t know how you guys and gals do it. It’s amazing.
A strong man who many can learn from – your words tell his story well
mike sounds like a great guy to me that has meant a lot to you and is quite the inspiration to us through your words…really well written…loved it…
A beautiful tribute to a great guy! Sounds like he is truly an inspiration to those around him.
Wonderful portrait of a survivor, who says Yes when everything says No. Comrade in arms or mentor, brother or saint or all of the above, Mike’s a treasure and this poem a great gallery of what makes him so. Great work, Amy.
Those who carry this kind of torch are all too rare, light-bearers for the rest of us. You’ve painted him well in this free flowing, yet concise and balanced piece.
This poem blew me away…heart-wrenching and uplifting at the same time. // Peter.
Well-written, Amy. I like the refrain about getting up. You’ve shown hope despite circumstances.