Different Ages

I often wonder what my father is thinking.

 

Navajo is his native tongue

so he stumbles on his english,

slowing to think about . . .

 

I often wonder what I am thinking.

 

I forget which meaning I assign certain words

and begin to question my belief in them,

thinking what it's like to speak my native tounge.

 

I often wonder what my grandfather is thinking.

 

One day I see him wash his face

with the snow in our front yard

instead of the sink inside the house.

Reviews

[T.A.Rogers]

This poem is much deeper than it appears at first glance. To me it speaks of the hardship of change and the transition that takes place with it. Also, I loved the form. I believe that a poem is about expression, raw emotion, and the energy that one puts into it (and this one contains all three of those). Rhyming poems are great in their own right but they have limits. Poems like this are limitless and, in my honest opinion, some of the best. Great poem and kudos to you on it.

[Emily B]

a man told me once that we speak through a language, he must have known, he was Turkish and ran an Italian restaurant in Germany, all the while speaking perfect English. . .

and it's true that when I read the sonnets of Octavio Paz, I prefer the Spanish, even if I don't understand all the words. . .

this is a stunning portrait of the generations. spoken well.

[radian7]

This is a very fine work. Economy of words but rich in implication. Three generations like rings of a tree each a little further from the core culture and each other. Rich imagery of your grandfather washing his face in the snow rather than the sink. Beautiful.

[Toni Prehoda Kahler]

There are many things I love about this piece. Your opening line is riveting to me, because I always wanted to know my father better than he would allow, wanted to be closer than he would let me. You effectively let me know, again, that you don't know what he thinks, with your dot-offs....which lead straight to your own self-questioning, which is the reverse of your father's. And then to the crux as I feel it, to your grandfather with the same wondering. And whew, I am whirled to the immediacy, like a still from a movie, of your grandfather washing his face with snow... I don't know why this feels so intense to me. I consider what washing his face with snow instead of using the sink might mean....the natural aspect, or is it in direct rebellion against the manmade, the indoor-ness, the artificial? I feel the power of the three "I often wonder" statements, and I'm glad you set them off. This compact work evokes connections and disconnections, a tension that I enjoy.

[Stonewall]

I seemed to get a sense here of a difference between thinking and being, am I right? While yourself and father seem to be questioning or unsure, there is a certainty in the way your grandfather has been described through action.