Walking Forward

Two silver disks for feet--

Two short steel poles for legs--

On this bitter winter day
he wore tan shorts.  

Steel legs can’t feel the cold.

A t-shirt--

no coat or sweater.

Nothing to take off,

remove

or place

 in the black plastic tray.

Totally open available for airport security.

His only hand held

his boarding pass.

While his other half arm swung steadily,

precisely counter-balancing

his tilting rocking hips

moving forward

step…..by small step…..by small step.

A soldier back from Iraq?

A baby born that way?

His off-kilter face

Didn’t really say.

I do not, will not, can not offer more—

than what he offered me--

the chance to stop

to pause

to notice

one person’s walking forward 
towards 
his life.

I closed the door so neatly

it clicked as it went shut.

I turned my back and walked away.

ticking ticking in my gut.

I bought a table, chairs, some wine

for newfound friends to drink.

Yet six years on the glasses sit

waiting waiting for their clink. 

I dropped these expectations,

buttoned up, went out alone

and met in wind and yellow leaves

joy-- joy-- joy now known.  

              *********

I longed to seize the Statue

to make its beauty mine--

but had nowhere to store it

outside this slice of time.

I left behind its beauty

walked empty down the street--

yet trailed a chain of yearning

tied securely to my feet.

            ***********

I never knew my grandfather.

He was just

a wavering shimmer in my mind—

--a little boy wearing

a striped dress in an old photo

--a dad reading the paper,

rocking the baby,

smoking his cigarette
all at the same time

--a dad giving a quarter

to his daughter

when asked for a nickel

--a banker coming home one day

in 1933

to climb the stairs

lie on the bed

and cry

--a husband slumped 

over his steering wheel

dead

his wife reaching over

to take the wheel.

I learned

--too late--

his siblings

were alive and well

while I grew up grandpa-less.

--too late--

to hug his three brothers,

kiss his sister,

smell his family’s smell,

listen to their jokes and stories about

their brother who died young.

I could have seen

my grandfather’s smile

on a brother’s face.

--too late--

I am left

with just the shimmering

once again.