A POEM A DAY

The voice is the first instrument.
I just finished using my voice in a deposition,
cross-examining a witness, pulling sound out of silence,
and weaving together a testimony.  
Mateo is learning how to talk,
how to tune, how to invite sound
under the roof of his mouth
and offer a home to the words he wishes to come out.  
We work on repetition and annunciation.
Senator Cory Booker just used his voice to give
a 25-hour filibuster to speak on behalf of the voiceless
I hear a voice inside my head and we get along
long enough until silence stumps one of us.
I am learning the sacred art of noticing

                  (and rising to speak
                  (and raising my voice from the well)

My father is taking in the small moments
He shares a video of a bee in his backyard
descending into the orchid flowers in full bloom
and the gravity of this love tethers me to the screen
I watch a video where a son holds his mother’s hand
on the golf course, and says, Slow down, mommy,
I want to enjoy this moment.
Is this my revolution?

A moment is time tapping against the infinite
This moment is a clue

I’m gathering clues
like words under the roof of Mateo’s mouth.

This morning, pink roses preside
over the concrete wall of my office parking lot
and I see another bee find the sweet nectar
of everything happening now
I’m taking in the small moments,
a circle is drawn around me until it becomes
A line I bend to my will
or an apple falling from the tree and down the hill
into the mirror of where I meet myself
like another moment, another clue

The voice is the first instrument to ask, who are you?

I’m rewinding time,
I’m learning to be a dad for the first time.
Beginnings beget beginnings.
I bear witness to an origin story
on the way to lunch
Another moment stole my senses
like a bee buzzing in sugar
like the earthquake of joy out my boy’s mouth
A parking lot plot unlike any other:

I see and hear a Mama Duck with her sixteen ducklings
in orbit, marching into a bush, jumping into the dirt.
The consequence of my curiosity leads to the discovery that
this Mama Duck brings her ducks out here once a year,
to show them how to walk, how not to get lost.
Are we ever alone in any moment?
My friend Alex says that this is the Universe reminding me to tune in.
So I do.
Right now,

Mateo’s voice is a box he loves to unpack,
a little duck learning to quack.
When I hold him, he sometimes will whisper a word
to himself like he wants to make a secret memory
Mateo is creating moments I want to rewind
If I pause time, I might lose a moment
I won’t avoid the future, I’ll just save it a seat.
The joy of being alive is as simple as writing my life down
as I’ve lived it
as I’ve loved it
every infinite moment
tuning me into an instrument.