Geron

This poem was written for my first child, a son, whose name is Geron. He is the one.

 

 

 

Geron

 

Born on April 9, 1972

You are the one who joined this world

all soft and pink...

The one whose collarbone was broken,

Whose eye was bruised and black,

Whose skin turned yellow.

You are the one whose soft fuzzy head

looked like an ice cream cone...

Whose toes and fingers I counted,

Whose feet were wrinkled.

You are the one I snuggled and kissed

and dressed up like a little doll,

the one who always smelled of Baby Magic.

You are the one whose fingernails got painted

and who wore piggy tails for a day...

until your dad put his foot down.

You are the one who locked Gramma outside,

who threw the neighbor's potatoes over the railing,

who loved Stephanie

in kindergarten, first and second grade.

You are the one whose parents are teachers,

the one who struggled through school

and through your young life

with a mother and father who

battled until they no longer loved each other,

the one whose sweet child's sleep was

stopped by sounds of anger and pain,

the one who crawled upon the kitchen counter

to peek at Daddy drunk on the ground

outside the front door.

You are the one who saw your mother cry

and cry, and cry...

You are the one who fell off your bike,

built the tree house, the forts,

played with Teresa and Michael,

picked the blackberries and

carved your name alongside mine

on the springhouse...

in the canyon,

the one who walked all the way

to Whiskey Row and tied the shoelaces together

of drunks passed out on the sidewalk.

You are the one who played with Legos and GI Joe

and who went to school on the reservation

and who wasn't Navajo and who struggled

to be accepted...

You are the one who cried and cried

when the family finally broke,

the one who stood on the sidewalk

with tears rolling down your cheeks

as your only father drove away.

You are the one who continued to struggle

with what life gave you,

the one who dropped out of high school,

the one who drove recklessly,

who got into fights,

who began to feel

that no one loved you.

You are the one who rode your bike

in a rainstorm to take your GED

and who didn't study,

the one who went on to college and

the university to excell in music and writing,

the one who took the master class and

who played better classical guitar than the teacher.

You are the one who crushed your knee

...running

but who taught yourself to read music

and to play Chopin and Valse Carillo.

You are the one who reads and understands

intensely complex literature,

who writes beautiful poetry,

who masters the classical guitar.

You are the one who plays the Moonlight Sonata

on grand pianos for dazzled audiences,

the one one with pretty teeth

and the great smile and who understands

how James Dean felt.

You are the one who loves forests

and fishing and camping and who dreams

of building a home in the mountains

for yourself and a beautiful wife.

You are the one who dreams of family,

love and acceptance

and of a world where right wins, love lasts

and everyone has a friend.

 

Love,  Mom

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Sharon D]

Sister,sitting here with my oldest child Lisa, reading this "heart touching" poem. YOu have shared a time of your life and your son Geron's that is innocent, sad, and conquering. How, proud you must be of you and your son, because YOU gave him the foundation to carry on, "no matter what stood before him" . To become so successful and to give enjoyment to others through his music. SWEET!! We love it, Lisa and I.

[John Jackson (El Juero)]

I knew the boy. I only met the Man once. I saw the boy inside, and felt the pain. He was glad to see me, but I was a ghost in the flesh, and we could not break free of chit chat. He felt my love. I only hope he feels his Mama's love. This piece is breathtaking, exhilarating and forceful. I am so honored to have been a part of it.

[jeril]

You are a wonderful mom to a wonderful son.

[Donna Jitchotvisut]

Well done! I love the way you describe the progression from a new-born to a toddler and then a grade-schooler who, surrounded by the obvious love of his parents, is unafraid to test his world and follow his heart. The loss of childhood is very poignantly described in the image of tears flowing down the boy's face as he watches his father leave the marriage. The young man triumphs over the bruised and broken wreckage of the family he once had as he grasps the strengths of his tremendous natural intellect, passion and love and uses them to become a success as an artist and performer. One understands that the bitter lessons of his lost family life are not lost on him; he uses these lessons to build himself up into a strong and caring member of his world. Beautifully written and described, Christy!

[AK]

What a lovely piece of writing. Such a gentle tribute. Thank you.

[Liz Tillema]

Beautiful poem.

[Samuel Dickens]

Your love and adoration for Geron comes through in great torrents, Christy. As I also understand, you bore him into this world, tended to his every need and equiped him for life's road as best you could, and he is and shall always be the apple of your eye. This is as it should be, but not all who come here are so lucky as to have a mother like you.

One little error--"lookied like an ice cream cone" should be "looked," I think.

[Zachary_James]

great