On Being Male
Despite outward appearances, I have lived a life of opaque poetry,
spoken in the quiet drawl of someone who preferred solitude,
like most men, I have been burdened with storylines
and stereotypes of our gender,
like most men, I have been assigned uniforms that never fit
Still, and forever, I share my brother’s pathos,
like a sunrise over centuries of blood-stained battlefields
where so many have fallen…
like driftwood scattered along an endless stretch of shoreline,
well-schooled in the violence of the lashing sea
we have been heroic, we have been craven,
we have been wounded more than anyone can know,
carrying the banner of humanity through the unforgiving years
In truth, we are forged from the DNA of conquest, ambition and power…
a litany of extremes swept into action by an undertow of survival instincts.
And yet, our deep and authentic caring, our history of noble choices,
are vast within our nature.
We are an inventory of skyscrapers and bridges and Shakespeare,
we’ve taken walks on the moon, cured diseases,
demonstrated a natural bent to defend the sovereignty of any soul in danger,
any nation under attack when the cause is justified.
And we are evolving to embrace the full diversity of our manhood…
a clenched fist is also an open hand that holds, and fathers and forgives,
bare knuckles can translate into fingers that scatter ash, plant seeds
and wipe away a tear… sometimes flying across violin strings
like the dance of dancing lightning.
Living apologies are forthcoming, and growing…
for the unspeakable and devastating treatment of women,
our neglect of children and our savaged earth…
ultimately our poor stewardship of love, itself.
But Look! Listen! know! In the great shout of the world,
we are still providers and protectors with broad shoulders,
still a mash of Yin and Yang looking for balance…
learning to see and be seen, to listen and be heard,
to love and be loved, as we navigate our way through darkness
towards some promise of light, drifting somewhere up ahead.