Ode to Ma (Berkeley Edition)

I will remember you because of the way you put down the champagne glass.

I did not know that God

The Bounds

The Punisher

The Sustainer

Could run out of patience.

I knew enough to understand that tension was endemic to Olympus.

I didn’t know that Hera would show her rage so publicly.

I will remember you because of the way you broke the champagne glass.

Some invisible slight.

A request ignored. Even more galling, the omission was not intended. A congenital absent mindedness that prevented a key step.

A decade of such careless perfidy was the kindling to the bonfire that singed this party.

I will remember you because you could not be shamed by the champagne glass.

With a shout, stem firmly in hand, you smashed the glass into the table.

A room full of invited guests.

A shadow analog of Zeus, averse to conflict, armed with the shaky bolt of academia, trying not to cower in the kitchen. Bereft of comprehension.

I will remember you because as the champagne glass slammed into the table, your feet touched the earth, and I saw that you were not the mythical adult, but a person. Reified, I could see you as real.

Everything should have broken and bled.

But the pieces of glass simply fell from your hand.

The guests had nothing to add or detract.

You walked outside into the evening air.

I will remember you because you showed me that to be human is to break

And then continue.