Monday, March 31, 2014
My Dad Did
Your Dad Did What?
Where they have been, if they have been away,
or what they've done at home, if they have not -
you make them write about the holiday.
One writes My Dad did. What? Your Dad did what?
That's not a sentence. Never mind the bell.
We stay behind until the work is done.
You count their words (you who can count and spell);
all the assignments are complete bar one
and though this boy seems bright, that one is his.
He says he's finished, doesn't want to add
anything, hands it in just as it is.
No change. My Dad did. What? What did his Dad?
You find the 'E' you gave him as you sort
through reams of what this girl did, what that lad did,
and read the line again, just one 'e' short:
This holiday was horrible. My Dad did.
I love this poem because of its apparent simplicity despite of its subject's outstanding solemnity. It reminds me that, most of the times, the things that touch us the most are the ones that seem the simplest of all. Telling reality is one of them, since it affects and concerns everybody. It reminds us that, after all, we're all one and the same when it comes to fundamental circumstances of our lives. We all face the same things: death, sickness, birth, life, happiness, sadness, anger, hope, injustice, etc. And so we're all inevitably concerned and interested by the same range of important themes... Then are we all that different from one another, or is it all just a way for us to focus on the things that don't really matter that much? Things that actually originally don't matter at all. It is the fact that we focus on them so much that it creates issues, issues that we could live without, and this would allow us to thus pay attention to the really important matters in our lives, matters which need people to focus on and act upon. Themes such as poverty, equality of chances for EVERYBODY, sickness, the ecosystem, violence, war, etc.
I hope you liked the poem as much as I do, despite its sadness.
Have a lovely day and keep your mind sharp!