Generation Gap

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Generation Gap

I forget, sometimes, the ocean between us when we stand close together, the language barrier when we talk for hours thinking we understand each other.

That you expect the world to serve up justice and equity, while I’m content with my morning eggs and toast and a clucking of the tongue at the morning paper, seems a minor difference, until you start to raging at the machine expecting answers. You see, I get it that machines can’t talk and never could. I stopped expecting to understand why a long time ago.You still want to know everything and think you can.

That just makes you mad and me a little sad, but still we regard each other from our separate orbits, thinking that somehow we are the same.

Blood is thicker than water except when the cumidin is introduced. Then it’s just the same, except different, and it doesn’t hold things together anymore. And so we are.

I am the cliffs and oceans banging together all, craggy and barely pieced together now. You are the southern  wind and summer solstice, always bright and light.

Real and hopeful, two sides of the same coin, never seeing eye to eye.

Which is the more enduring? The cliffs will turn to dust and the oceans run dry while light and breath remain. I will go on into the generation gap and hope you don’t follow. 

 

 

3 thoughts on “Generation Gap

      • Ah, I encourage you that I am sure they certainly love you for who you are. I think that we are all of different temperaments and maybe it is part of Gods work in bringing us perfect balance. That said it is in the”raging against the machine” that stung me about my own temperament In the profound way only poetry can bring. However, as I age l am finding “clucking at the morning paper” is more appetizing.

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