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Poet Commentaries

Riding a Bike

Riding a Bike

I am teaching my daughter to drive.  The lesson is that speed is relative. Why 50 kph seems fast on a dirt road but feels like we are stopped on the highway.  We talk about this from many different angles.

Metaphors are consistently used and unavoidable.  “This is that” is a critical tool for our peace of mind.  These are however the worse tools for teaching children with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and their use needs to be guarded.  She has in fact taught me a lot just by making me translate these metaphors and explain; and I do.

My son in law has “hand clinic”.  I smile.  Moving your hand is child’s play, it is just something we do… until there is part of the forearm removed and the nerves leading to it are damaged.  The broader smile is one of amazement.  Amazement that there are physio therapists out there that know the exercises to help.

My daughter gets that I am her therapists with metaphors.  How they help us make decisions and place life in perspective.  They help us get it, whatever that is.  She is not embarrassed that she does not get it and I in turn rework the exercise to make it workable and something I see deeper.

A poem written after our last driving lesson.  Lol if you do not get it then you can emphasize with her.  Read it again.

reeling
focus to peripheral
to hindsight

Blurred tombstones,
I am the breeze in grasses.
Wild Columbine and Bluebells
mix in a swirl 
becoming Viper’s Bugloss.

At five gnats per second
I spit blood
and cry and cry and cry,
eye wash for dust.

Spewed gravel missiles
spilt and spit Soy launched
I swerve through
washboard minefields
and pass a tractor
on my bike

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