In the recess deep in his chest
he carries not the words of librarians passed,
but the tantrums of toddlers, his childhood;
In the folds of his bathrobe;
not hidden are hands of his father
but the white-knuckled fists of boisterous boys.
In the notebooks he carries not inked
the wisdom from elders
but the delighted doodling by youngsters.
When fathers have faded for fierceness
of sons he leaves the shadows for sunlight;
when future is written on pages of changes,
the aged librarian leaves what’s already written
for what’s yet to be scribbled.
When maps are distorted, follow the sun;
for teachers it’s time to learn from their students.
The aged librarian picks up his pen,
a notebook, his cane and leaves his study,
to seek for the questions of childhood
leaving behind the answers he’s gathered.
Brendan wants us to contemplate the father-son duality at toads. Inspired by an essay by James Hillman (“Senex and Puer”) Brendan asks several important questions for us to write on. Seeing the split between the aging white male and the cosmopolitan youth I can see the puer in me (and in the aged librarian) stirring…
I will also link this to Poetry Pantry tomorrow.
June 16, 2018