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Pictures
from Home
by Joseph Giovinazzo
I
leaf through pages you say should remain closed.
I rustle the edges too brusquely for your liking.
I fear none of this, and so you become unsettled.
Scornful of my manner,
you view my gestures with disdain,
and rest uncomfortably with my posture on events.
We must talk, you say, but what of listening?
Should it linger as a burden to this aspiration?
While
I gaze forward, you embrace the rear,
and so we're differently pointed.
Is this difference only in our generations?
Are we its quintessential attributes;
a then and a now;
a hundred year gulf, bridged only by intransigence?
Yes, we must talk,
but it continues to be difficult.
How
can we gather our faces towards a resolution?
Our footings are each differently cast.
While I see change as inevitable,
you fence it off as a scourge that ravages our decency.
Must things stay as they always were;
an alleged contentment with past years?
We must talk, but in its place we argue.
Is this a failing, or are we blest in our differences?
Some
things can't change, you say;
the sacrosanct is marked by its immutability.
I, however, stand with contrary opinion;
not only will things change, but they must.
Can the passing of time have no effect on our complexion?
Should I always continue with the views you savagely clutch?
Yes, we must talk if we're to reconcile
our differences.
I don't know how, but we must.
Please,
we must talk.
Please, come closer. Sit! Let's talk.
The ground shifts under our feet;
It seeks to move us but we stand still.
Please, we must talk.
There are things I don't understand.
Uncertainty
pervades my gestures.
I'm forced to walk a tentative circle.
Is it strange that I should not aspire to be you?
Is it strange that I should exist without your markings?
Is it strange that my ambitions are not yours?
I must be myself, not simply your expectation.
I
have concerns;
unnecessary to you, but crucial to my thinking.
You say change disturbs the fabric of nature,
but the fabric of nature seems woven by change.
You say what is should remain, simply because it is.
It seems you disregard the inevitable.
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