Camp

There is a dearth of foot traffic on the

sidewalks that yearns for actual loved-upon

shoes to cross its path; speak of the urgency

she urges on the bystanders. The face who

has forgotten what it is—and he is put to rest.

O muse, inspire in me that which is good

as the sun fills the glass and the horizon

slowly disappears. I am looking for a man,

he asks, in the dim light of his lantern.

Silly leaves in the blueness of the 

oxygen molecules gathering into

clumps. Trumpets abound into fall.

Why am I so scared to write these days? Is it because I fear I will be judged a certain way? Not sure, but hopefully it'll all work out. What happens when the answer is so far away? When it appears at your grasp, waiting for your beckoning, and still it does not kneel but situates itself further?

Let me tell a tale:

Once there was a child who loved to play tennis. He loved everything about it: the courts, the balls, the racquets, the running, and the serving. 

When he played, he felt free. There was an element of supremely felt love on the court.

So what did he do after he finished his homework early? He went to the court alone.

Dragging along a metal cage of old yellow balls, he situated himself on the court. Placed it left of that little dash on the baseline separating ad from deuce. 

And he served.

He hit forehands and backhands. And he was satisfied when he broke a sweat. He imagined hitting them in practice at school. 

And at home, he hit against the wall, until the neighbors complained and he hit on the other wall. Tennis never let him down. 

He grew older. Wiser. Life wasn’t as simple or as easy as tennis. The worst thing that happened on a tennis court was a blister, sprain, or scrape. But outside of the court, invisible pains surfaced. Heartbreak. Illness. Hearing those close to him speak their last breaths.  

He was put on the court once more to teach the sport. But how to teach others to love what was so innate? What constituted his attraction beside a feeling in his heart? 

That was to make a boy into a man. To fear no one. But to speak with a courage and spirit—with passion—that was the goal.