Letter to my Son
Come, Samuel; let’s sit down like men,
watch the morning unfold under the clouds,
watch the doe with the fawn on the lawn, freeze
as she spots us before she slinks towards
the green. Let’s watch the fawn flash his tail like
a candle flame in a breezy dining room.
He watches his mother walking away,
wondering why she leaves him behind as he
The world is filled with
dangers and woes. People who won’t like you
because of your father or your mother,
your curly hair, the color of your skin.
And you’ll wonder if we’re only walking
away from the problem or from you, like
the doe carelessly sauntering to safety.
We have a word, shigataganai: there
is nothing to be had by worrying.
There are things we cannot choose, but we choose
what we can and pray for the best to come
out of every flick of the head, of the wrist.
We can't do much for this world, the ones who
are scared, afraid of the monster downstairs.
Nothing can be done for them. But I hope
I can shape you to be better than me.
Daryl Muranaka was raised in California and Hawaii. He currently lives in the Boston area with his wife and two children. In his spare time, he enjoys aikido and taijiquan and exploring his children’s dual heritages.