Legion D’Honneur
The speaker buzzed in
The same rhythm as my father’s shaking head
I was not going to laugh
Instead I felt myself shaken
to tears
In this grand room
Cut with those pokey
sunflower sculptures
and quirky lamps
His one eye was
smaller than the other
His hair was turning grey
Would he find the words to say?
Rattling off facts and gracious thanks
I knew he deserved that pin
The green and white star of achievement
The medal draped over his left breast
My Knight
I saw him in those moments
The young man John Weber challenging convention
Believing carelessly with care
(who was I to judge him
I just love him
because I do)
A california sun born boy
In a Spiral Jetty plane
flying over continents and conventions
with pencil lines drawn so thin
and clear on the wall
Skin that buck and believe in life
Building stone fences
A Cingiale bandit
in an Australian overcoat
Artists, women, lofts, guns, glass, children, houses, ruins, cats, rocks, songs, banjoes, trees
We are all here in the forest
A little sick from acid rain
Yet still fertile
Shifting in the wind holding on for life
I look to the light and see the leafy tops
Who am I to judge what’s best
I love you because
I do
I love your art
I love your effort
I love your history
I love your flaws
I love your stance
I even love your hand
The one that shut the door
on me at three
Torna
I cried Daddy dove vai?
But you’re still here
You’re a little boy
With tears crying and shaking
And I hold you in my
arms
Singing songs we
jump and play
in the woods
eating wild fragole
and popping puff filled
mushrooms
on that soft mossy lawn
running through a creek
Paolina Weber
1996
