Living
by Chuck Kellum
In honor of my Dad
The stroke didn’t stop him.
Before long, he was walking again
With a cane, but not a walker.
Then came the crash, him
Suspended upside down in the small, crumpled pickup,
Banged up, brain bleeding in several places,
Until the rescuers arrived to get him free --
An eternity suffered alone
That he cannot remember.
And once again, at 90, he must strive
To relearn the basics
Of upright movement
That as a toddler long ago,
And without even realizing it then,
He had quickly discovered is
One of our most natural acts
Of freedom.
With that freedom he had become quite athletic
In his youth, unusually tall and excelling
In basketball – as a record-setting scorer,
And baseball – although unable or unwilling
to advance past playing semi-pro.
Now even the simplest movements of feet and legs
Can be quite tedious when working at walking,
And often frustrating,
And sometimes discouraging.
And yet, as I watch him
Rise slowly from the wheelchair, I’m sure,
Despite the limitations of his current condition,
He is still ready
To shoot that soft jumper from the baseline
Or bound, outstretched and straining,
To field the hard grounder hit to his right.
©2016 Chuck Kellum
[Inspired by a poem by David Lehman entitled “January 31” presented in The Writer’s Almanac 01/31/16, and begun in prose as a Facebook post that same day.]
by Chuck Kellum
In honor of my Dad
The stroke didn’t stop him.
Before long, he was walking again
With a cane, but not a walker.
Then came the crash, him
Suspended upside down in the small, crumpled pickup,
Banged up, brain bleeding in several places,
Until the rescuers arrived to get him free --
An eternity suffered alone
That he cannot remember.
And once again, at 90, he must strive
To relearn the basics
Of upright movement
That as a toddler long ago,
And without even realizing it then,
He had quickly discovered is
One of our most natural acts
Of freedom.
With that freedom he had become quite athletic
In his youth, unusually tall and excelling
In basketball – as a record-setting scorer,
And baseball – although unable or unwilling
to advance past playing semi-pro.
Now even the simplest movements of feet and legs
Can be quite tedious when working at walking,
And often frustrating,
And sometimes discouraging.
And yet, as I watch him
Rise slowly from the wheelchair, I’m sure,
Despite the limitations of his current condition,
He is still ready
To shoot that soft jumper from the baseline
Or bound, outstretched and straining,
To field the hard grounder hit to his right.
©2016 Chuck Kellum
[Inspired by a poem by David Lehman entitled “January 31” presented in The Writer’s Almanac 01/31/16, and begun in prose as a Facebook post that same day.]
Chuck Kellum grew up on a farm southwest of Indianapolis. As a young adult he traveled the world a bit – about twenty countries in all. He eventually settled into a technology-related career primarily as a business applications software developer, got and stayed married, helped raise three children, and has lived in Anderson, Indiana, since 1984. He began writing poetry while a senior in college studying engineering and wrote about 120 poems in the course of a dozen years before getting married, but then was too busy after that with work and family. His writing of poems on a somewhat frequent basis resumed in 2009 after he was no longer working full time. He’s been a member of the Noble Poets club since 2017, and currently serves as Treasurer and Contest Director of the Poetry Society of Indiana.
public contact: [email protected]
public contact: [email protected]
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