~for Wyett Yocum~
nowadays, we slice and dice ourselves
by gender, race, and any thin wafer division
by which the human persona can be identified,
as if we were tattooing our ****** identity
on the wrist of your societal recognition scales
all in order to say, Hey!
this is who I am,
this! is why
I am special unique, very very
deserving of your accoladed admiration
so the newly acquired phrase,
there is no brag in that boy
leaps and bounds, coming to rest on my wide eyes white,
now part of my lexicon, there, where my vocabulary stored,
for its very contradictory contrariness
demands the realized anti-hero,
the natural quietude of
the aw shucks, that we used to value, people,
nearing the end of my days, my vast
knowledge of words and people grows smaller
by leaps and bounds, for finer refinement and focus,
vastly diminishes and distinguishes but a handful
of verbal grains, seeds, a few is all that’s needed,
kernels, that when deep planted, well watered,
a gift nurtured by nature’s simplest greater gifts
regifted us human exmplars
there is kind.
there is honor.
there is selflessness, character, service
and a very, very few more.
some new, just today, recently obtained,
the very title of this late night reflection!
a fine spun summary depiction of modesty,
a trait so rare, it’s existence now under appreciated,
and so very hot-not, au courant, fashionable, woks or lit,
hardly deemed valuable in the me-matters age
so crumple up this minor essay, store and stick it
among your mementos, and other keepsakes,
let it not be seen, avoid confusing the young man of whom
it was spoken and herein recorded, but this prize! this poem!
this award without proclamation or gold statuette or degree,
will, a secret well kept, by those who raised him, recognizing,
that their own mirrored imaged is quietly well reflected,
his inherited invaluable, distinguished modesty,
product of his pedigree
Nov. 10, 2029