Today I have for you an original poem. Last month I attended My Favorite Poem, a community poetry reading here in Birmingham in which folks share their favorite poem and why it's important to their lives. One high school student shared "When the World Was Ten Years Old He Fell Deep in Love with Egypt" by Patricia Lockwood -- and I fell in love with using the world as a way to write a poem. The very next day I wrote this poem about our 15 year old son who is the world and our youngest son and who has already passed his driving test and is waiting for The Day to arrive when he can officially drive off into the sunset... without his mother beside him.
When the World
Learned to Drive (for Eric)
- after Patricia
Lockwood
When the world
learned to drive
he started on back
roads, trim
neighborhood
streets, his eyes
watchful for trash
cans and cats.
At first his foot
came down hard,
his hands slick
against the wheel,
right turn right
turn right turn
until he was thank
God, back home.
When the world
learned to drive,
he grinned at stop
signs,
their bold-print and
eager faces
familiar as his
reflection,
and equally as
maddening –
until he learned the
feather-art
of rubber sole
easy-easy
against rubber
pedal.
When the world
learned to drive
he couldn't wait to
take the interstate.
He dreamed of long
ramps
and fast, smooth
mergings,
was unruffled by the
whoosh
of semi trucks or
the red Mustang
rushing his back
bumper.
The world simply
thumbed the wheel
and adjusted his
rearview mirror.
And then there was
no stopping him:
he craved city
traffic, stop-and-go,
cloverleafs and
flyovers.
His faith steamed
like asphalt
after a summer
shower, he studied
maps for sinkholes
and mountains,
strapped himself in
and didn't look back.
Not soon enough he
learned
to navigate Highway
280,
it's ant-lines and
zipper lines and no lines
a language he could
understand:
hip-hop lyrics,
piano, drumbeat –
with a little reggae
thrown in.
To celebrate, the
world bought
four pair of
sunglasses,
kept both hands on
the wheel.
Didn't text while
driving, or eat,
or cry, though
sometimes the sunset
was so beautiful he
had to clear his throat.
The world was a good
listener,
had always been a
good listener.
He believed each
yellow light
was a message from
God –
sometimes, Hold
On, sometimes, Let Go.
He knew and his
mother knew
and every song he
would ever write knew
that there was a
road
somewhere with his
name on it,
and if there wasn't,
the world would build it.
- Irene Latham
This needs to come with a tissue warning, Irene! Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Tabatha... there's just something about the last one... xo
DeleteWow, Irene, Tabatha is right, you've taken me back to that sweet time, the cusp of the world. And teary as I read, but I'm happy for the memory.
ReplyDeleteYes, Linda, the cusp of the world! Thank you for reading, and for remembering. xo
DeleteAll of the details in the third stanza swept me away and back to my own first car (a rickety black Mustang).
ReplyDeleteFun to think of you driving a Mustang, Laura! xo
DeleteO.M.G., Irene. A gorgeous, heart-hugging poem if ever I heard one. If I was your son, I would be so proud to call you my mom. Excited for Monday's celebration!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Michelle. :) If Eric in any way feels the way I have felt the times he's written songs for me, I am one happy mama! Truly, homespun gifts are the BEST. xo
DeleteI'm enjoying this poem on so many levels—meaning, language, rhythm and pacing. So beautiful, Irene. I love how you've used the words "the world" here. This is one I'll come back to, for sure. Thank you!
ReplyDelete(Looking forward to stopping by on Monday!)
Thank you, Sheri! I hope you'll share a WILD post!! xo
DeleteWow! This is so beautiful, evocative and heartfelt. The last stanza is a killer!!
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading, Jama. Parenthood is my favorite job ever. xo
DeleteYesterday was the first day that my daughter drove with me in the car (my husband has been teaching her) and so just well, this poem is holding right onto me. So gorgeous, Irene. What a gift you are - to your boys and to all of us. Hug. xx!!
ReplyDeleteOh, wow, we are so often sharing the same things on our parenthood journeys... love it! Thanks for reading. xo
DeleteOh, Irene, this is so lovely. You brought back memories of my own sons. They are grown men now with careers and families of their own, but the memories last forever. Thank you for this touching reminder. xo
ReplyDeleteThank you, Linda... truly, it is an honor to be a parent. SO HARD, but wow. Nothing else like it. xo
DeleteSo beautiful, Irene. You have captured so many nuances of the child and the mother all at once. Really lovely.
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading, Doraine! I so rarely write "about" any of my kids... but the distance The World gave me helped. xo
DeleteI just went back and read this again. This time I clicked on the sound cloud and listened to you read it. Let me just say again--So beautiful.
DeleteThis is a fabulous poem. So many new experiences for me - reading on the other side of the world and not at ALL wanting to drive your interstate. Our freeways are bad enough for country me. That last stanza is beaut, as noted - but I LOVE that last line. The whole poem in a nutshell is in that line.
ReplyDeleteHa, the interstate is a breeze compared to Hwy 280 (highly trafficked 6 lanes of madness!). Thanks so much for your kind words and for reading in the first place!
DeleteThis is beautiful, Irene, and so full of truth. That last line takes my breath away!
ReplyDeleteAww, thank you so much for reading. xo
DeleteWow! I love the Egypt poem and yours. Wonderful! Looking forward to your anniversary celebrations.
ReplyDeleteYes, Ruth! Thank you. Very excited to experience the WILD-ness. xo
DeleteHow perfect that your son is simultaneously The World.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Mary Lee! I've also been working on one called When the World Learned to Read -- this particular son has dyslexia, and oh boy, what a journey! xo
DeleteWow, you've captured it all in your poem--"hands slick against the wheel, the "whoosh," the "four pairs of sunglasses," and the "mother." Brava!
ReplyDeleteMy wild post is up and running and I'll be back tomorrow to add my link.
Fabulous, Diane! SO EXCITED!!! Btw, son really did buy 4 pairs of sunglasses. :)
DeleteSo, so, beautiful, especially the line: " He believed each yellow light
ReplyDeletewas a message from God –sometimes, Hold On, sometimes, Let Go."
I will never look at a yellow light the same way again, Irene.
I have one daughter driving (18) - she was oh so eager at 15/16. My younger daughter is a few years way (12)...for now the world can wait, neither she nor I is ready.
Dear Bridget, yes, the driving thing is a real game changer, isn't it? That's when we really start to lose them. I have such intense memories of that first taste of true freedom -- to get in a car and DRIVE! So, so wonderful! Thank you for reading! xo
DeleteWhat a poem, Irene! I can't think of a better gift to give Eric than birthing him into the world, and watching him drive off, on his way, no stopping him.
ReplyDelete