Sunday ... no, now Monday. Sigh.

Jones Beach, A Sunday in November

Just because eye has not seen
Is no alibi for never peeking.
Because ear has not heard
Is no excuse for not eavesdropping.
There are days like today
To gull-flip a double passport
At the border of small infinities
And stare at shells
That talk out loud
-Catherine Barry

Today is the last Sunday in November for the year, and in twenty-three minutes it will be over. So I'm a little late in sharing this poem. But no matter.

I was first attracted to this poem because its title reminded me of my father-- he grew up in Queens, New York, and spent time at Jones Beach. I've never been there. I picture a gray, wind-whipped seascape, the sand wet and dark, the air cold and unforgiving. Every time I read this that is the image in my mind.

It is the first four lines that captured me when I read them. I don't really know what the author means. Whatever interpretation I make is burdened by the elusiveness of the last four lines. I can't decipher them at all, really. But I like the way they sound. Poetry is as much music as anything else.

Just because eye has not seen is no alibi for never peeking. Because ear has not heard is no excuse for not eavesdropping. Whose eye and ear? Hers, mine, ours? Is she exhorting herself or her reader? Or both? The Biblical reference is clear. But to what end?

I have only amorphous thoughts about her meaning. But the words nonetheless have distinct resonance for me. Something about determination and freedom and opportunity. Small infinities. A contradiction in terms that somehow makes perfect sense to me.

My eyes are fighting me now. They want to close. They don't care that I haven't reached an ending. They betray me.

Mostly I just wanted to share this poem. Kind of for my dad. I went to Mass this evening and he was on my mind there too. Missing him. Missing watching him pray after Communion when I was old enough to understand how much it meant to him. And I would wonder what he was praying for, and wonder what I should be praying for.

Columbus, Ohio. A Sunday in November. Small infinities.