I was catching up on my former student, present friend's, poems, which he sends me by email (has sent me for years). A good spate of poems. Some of them tempted me to want to read them aloud on my blog. Michael emailed me his blessing if I were tempted enough. So here's one:
TALKING TO MY STUDENTS
Words stream through my mouth, a channel
for voices I had forgotten: there's my father,
how did he get in there--I thought I had left
him at the ancestral home and moved myself
on down the road; there's old Bob lecturing
my drama class--why the sneaky bastard even
slips into my English classes where he has no
territorial rights; Ben, dead and buried, brings
his ascetic haunted face and voice, his moral
clarity, into my discussions--softly scolding
my lack of rigor; singing a song, there is Joseph
smiling, nodding encouragement, making sure
I keep time accurately, hit the right notes,
remember the melody, treat the lyrics with respect;
I have become a river where streams merge--dozens
of friends, teachers, relatives, colleagues, students,
even an occasional enemy, have filled me
with their thoughts, their words, their rhythms; I am
a typical American, mongrel to the core, never one,
always many, never pure, always a mixture
of contradictory traits which strengthen one another;
my current carries with it the debris of every life
which has brushed up against me; my voice, I tell
the faces in front of me, is not my own, it belongs
to every person I have known; it belongs to you.
Michael L. Newell
Oh dearest DON: One of the purest joys in my life is to hear the voices of people I love. I would trade so much for a few moments to simply hear my own Daddy's Irish brogue. But, alas, GOD works in mysterious ways. Perhaps knowing my lonely heart's desire and dream, GOD instead bequeaths me a gift just as fine and loving; your voice. A voice that is gentle, kind and so easy to hear. Your voice, the voice of a father figure, brings tears to my eyes. How blessed I am to hear a voice with such clarity,a voice that resonates so much love and a voice that allows the author, Mr. Newell's poem/story to be told, then felt deep within me. You, DON, are the answer to my prayers, and I rejoice that GOD brought me a minute of my own Daddy's voice, within your beautifully spoken words.
ReplyDeleteDad,
ReplyDeleteI just listened to you read this amazing poem by Mike. You read it with all the rills & ghosts that are a part of you. Beautiful. So glad you and Mike keep in touch after all these years, from halfway across the globe.
This poem also reminded me of Raymond Carver's poem, "Where Water Comes Together With Other Water."
Love,
Elizabeth