I was looking through an old poetry journal of mine, looking for something to use in a post. I found a folded sheet with a poem by a dear friend who died recently, Pat Masumoto. The poem was dated September 10, 2015.
I remembered that Pat asked me to read this poem for her at a Maui Live Poets gathering she wasn’t able to attend because of conflicts in her hectic schedule.
Memories came flooding back and I was missing my dear friend. Poems have that ability to speak for you when you’re gone, it seems.
Aloha no, my ‘aikane…aloha no….
Here’s the poem:
CHANGING THE GAME
(to be read with a perfectly straight face)
Self control. It works.
When I feel hurt by rude insensitivity
I talk a lot and sometimes shout.
If I’m not heard, I walk away,
even when I want to choke someone
until he turns a putrid green.
When I feel alarmed by injustice
I stand up against it,
And if I can’t get anywhere, I read about heroes…
instead of spitting at people’s faces.
and I don’t like using guns either.
When I find myself in fear,
I might compose a poem…or two.
I won’t cross my arms and crouch and I absolutely
will not growl and bite anyone coming near.
As I become stronger and tougher,
I’ll do a silly giggle and laugh like crazy.
If you want to know what else, I’m aching to
get down on all fours and
howl at the moon, but I won’t.
When I’m gladdened by kindness,
By patience and generosity, I smile and grin.
I don’t get naked and
run amuck in the streets,
arms raised and hands open, screaming with joy.
(visibly take a breath)
After exercising self-control for my whole life, I’m now bored with it.
I want to change the game.
Header picture credit: “Maui Sunset” by Bernard Spragg, NZ via Flickr. [CC0 1.0 – Public Domain]
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