On June 28, 1969, in Greenwich Village,
no one thought about a baby being born in Bombay, India.
Just in time to hear the police enter the bar in New York City
until a riot took place at the Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street;
no one thought a lick about the birth of a boy so, so far away,
each day an event of historic proportion occurs, nothing stops.
Tides splash breakwater but people's lives continue as unaffected,
wait until the rise of the oceans from glaciers, only time will tell
empty cabarets after hours that its patrons having left their tips
need to go elsewhere, to go eat breakfast, steak and eggs, or to go to bed,
to open closed doors behind which lives left hidden and secret blossom,
yet, each new challenge shines a light on character and integrity.
Each day, a child grows and learns how to act mature, older, an adult
if they are challenged, it may take longer to grow into adulthood
given conditions within each family, a child may mature too fast
how they may become stunted by learned behaviors within their circle
to discern the truth, the difference between the good and what is harmful.
Nothing in the year, Nineteen Hundred Sixty-nine was more eventful
in terms of effects, than the NASA moon landing, a thing of beauty
not even a bar meant for gay and lesbian clientele, raided
each time by police for a quota, a shakedown, but a rebellion
transforms a nation and the whole global culture over fifty years
each time two men kiss in public or two women show each other love
each day, a child grows aware of all forms of love, they become mature
not even Aldrin, Armstrong and Collins could make children awaken.
How love is different than an adventure, a risk by three astronauts
under conditions where accuracy matters, a mistake, fatal
nothing like a war to remind people of death, how fast life is lost
driven by the need to protect and serve the rights of foreign people
read all of the names of soldiers who died abroad in South East Asia
each day, learn ten names, in thirteen years, statistics for casualties
dead from combat keeps the living busy learning about young soldiers.
Say their names, is left for 9/11, and yes, other sad events
in a world where war is constantly somewhere else, ideology
xenophobia, and defense mechanisms inflames eyes with fear
the anger and greed of military defense against the red scare
yet now, the Cold War sounds like the Hundred Years' War, just an old entry
not just 69, but the extent of the war, a child never knows
in the war zone, yes, elsewhere in suburbia, blessed with ignorance
not until their dad, their mom, brother or sister don't return back home
enough is enough, just like children, adults act, to get attention
if, as the reader, the desire to disagree, to argue a side
no more than a point, no cure for cancer or hate, survive, overcome
Greenwich, the Village, take the boy to Kew Gardens, only for two years
return to Bombay, to Goa, to India, never in his life
even his family extended settled down in Nairobi, Kenya
everywhere he goes, a stranger as othering fills the status quo
nowhere feels like home, childhood in California, the waves, beach and sand
welcome to sunshine and Eastern mysticism, Surf City, the pier
into the ocean fell time after time in storms, in high school, the boy
challenged decency, wrote an indecent story, a writing sample
how they took offense, tried to expel him from school, teach him a lesson
Visions of sorrow, of decay and suffering, how the world lacks sense
if he could live life all over again and start afresh, a clean slate
leave that to others, too many problems to solve, too much to clean up
let sleeping dogs lie, after so many mistakes and fifty long years
as to change the past becomes just speculation, forgive and move on
give people their due, honor the good, learn the truth, find in all, beauty
each day, a baby is born somewhere in the world as events happen
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