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Three Poems
By Wyatt H. Heard
[Wyatt H. Heard was a State District Judge in Houston for 21 years. Since 1991, as a lawyer, he has been doing mediations and arbitrations. He lives in Albuquerque.]
Daddy
There he sat on the
lawn furniture;
With his small portable
radio tuned in on the
baseball game.
The voices of my children
and others filled the air.
He was not the focus of
their attention but
they knew he was there.
Waiting in patience
ready to mentor if needed.
His massive frame and
those huge hands which
in former days used a
rope and an ax,
now simply turned the
dial on his radio.
Three decades ago my
judgment was flawed of him.
That is now in the past
never to be retrieved.
I hope it will give me
pause when my judgment
of someone else is not
tempered with mercy.
These lessons extract a
toll on us, but maybe,
just maybe, compassion
will not only be allowed to
surface but flood all our
cells as we are becoming
something new.
The Back
With age comes
wisdom--Right?
Well, carrying old doors in--
So "Don't push it." Right?
Two days later a yoga work shop
Four hours, no trouble. Right?
The next day real pain radiating
through the sciatic notch and down
the back of the thigh
It will be okay in a
couple of days. Right?
Two weeks pass. Then trips to
the doctor for adjustments and...
it's going to be better. Right?
Days later pain is increasing
and orders from the physician
to take an M.R.I.
The --Father had prostate cancer
which moved into the hip
and death sentence declared.
It has been almost two
years since my prostate operation
but it did not spread. Right?
They don't prepare a table
before me in the presence.... No they
lay me flat on the table
and move me into a tunnel--
Thirty minutes and
no movement. Don't worry. Right?
The next day results proclaim the good news
no cancer but a ruptured disc at L5-S1.
Well, physical therapy
will take care of it. Right?
You are not the first pilgrim
who has trailed this path.
You are not as independent
as you have acted for decades,
so you swallow hard and
proclaim, "I need help." Right?
Seventy
After seven decades
Once again ushered into
campus life
Where the trumpet of
trade begins to be dimmed,
The sound of art intrudes
into the crossroads of
civilization
and stands against
the ravages of time
proclaiming the fearless
truth.
Truth words do not
perish but on waves
of sound fly abroad.
Why is it in youth
we are so sure about life,
only to awake in
the late decades
hearing the vibrations
of ambiguity which threaten
us in youth.
But in elder age uncertainty
feels like
comfortable old shoes.
Maybe it is as
one sage declared,
"Certainty is the sin
of bigots, terrorists, and Pharisees.
Compassion makes me
think I may be wrong."
Updated Thursday, December 28, 2000
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