Beating the drums
Four friends and a twenty-year-old son
spread around the beach
and the bonding that took place, everybody as one
the night before around the bonfire, meetings of the minds within reach
reminding me of ages gone by, when everybody gathered around the central fire,
young and old alike told stories, huddled in the lee
and the young were as much a part of it as the old, being together didnít become dire
nobody felt compelled to tell anybody else the way it should be
this intergenerational bonding was taken for granted.
Where did we lose it along the way?
in our inexorable march towards technological nirvana, we have become particularly slanted
so that son and father are pitted against each other, as mother and daughter compete and everybody pays.
Iíve never been one to begrudge progress but it seems itís not so sweet
that weíve lost some unregistered but precious quality
and Iím not talking about chest or drum beating weekend retreats
but simple sharing of that deep down essence, the waft of scent or quick smile, humanness, not humanity
When did something so elementary become incomprehensible?
a high tech skill to be taught at a workshop somewhere, at two hundred and fifty a pop
if only we could all relax and let go of expectations, instead of becoming reprehensible
to our own flesh and blood, instead just let it drop.
There is in all of this somewhere a key
And itís letting young people unfold in whatever ways they are meant to and at the same time have fun
in the meantime, Iíll catch just a glimmer of the way it used to be
with three middle-agers and a twenty year old son.