Letter to my Son

Daryl Muranaka

 

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 the breezy dining room.

He watches his mother walking away,

wondering why she’s leaves him behind as he

finishes breakfast.

                              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 the 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.

unnamed-1.jpg