Word Portrait of Justin

As mentioned in my previous post, one of the things I wanted to accomplish in my talk at the NOPCAS conference this past Saturday was to present a clear picture of Justin’s spirit. A poem I wrote for him that attempts to do that was shared as a part of my presentation. It is shown below.

BELOVED PARADOX

My Beloved Paradox;

Seamless convergence of disparate things;

Unified and Splintered,

Whole and Torn,

Cynical with Innocence.

They don’t know how to reconcile

these ends of you, or how they blended

at your core.

And I grow impatient with explaining.

Yet it’s all I am compelled to do.

Marvels are hard to envision,

but they are worthy to be known.

So what can I say to

make them understand your

ancient, neophyte soul;

World weary at 24 years old?

Should I depict you, hunched in studies till two a.m.,

then rising at five for your ritual, pre-school workout?

Two hundred pound presses followed by lightning

quick kicks on three hours sleep.

No pain, No gain, no excuses.

How do I balance the steely perseverance that

pumped pre-dawn iron in middle school,

and that determination to bend life to your will,

with your deliberate, decisive, decision to let go?

The tenacious guardian of un-compromised,

single-minded belief,

stalked by merciless, unrelenting doubt.

Instinctive defender of the weak …..

Self appointed vanquisher of bullies everywhere,

who at times, expressed gruff indifference to

injustice’s inevitable tide.

How can I describe the joyful humor of your soul at play,

Eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back with laughter,

against the sullen refuge you took

to pursue your solitary path?

Rigid philosopher, unyielding on principal, stubborn with pride;

Rebuking the professor’s conventional notions,

Yet pausing in the hallway after class, listening intently to the

toothless cleaning man’s lecture on life.

How can I explain the fierce, warrior spirit; Bloodied knuckles

shattering boards, vowing no mercy, refusing captivity;

Against gentle hands that carried spiders outside,

rescuing them from my certain slaughter.

The large-eyed, serious child, struggling to keep up in class,

with the eloquent, earnest young man, holding assemblies

at rapt attention, master of complexity, advisor to

knowledge seekers twice your age.

How can I recapture visions of you focused in serine, lotus pose;

collapsing time into stillness.

The disciplined practitioner of patient meditation,

who could not wait?

How can I make sense to them of you,

reconcile your discordant edges;

fix you neatly in their box ?

My Beloved Paradox,

Seamless convergence of disparate things.

Wise and Naïve,

Proud and Humble,

Faithful and Questioning,

Steadfast and Changing,

Middle aged at 12 years old.

I grow impatient with explaining.

But I will speak your likeness to life.

For marvels are hard to envision,

but they are worthy to be known.

Forever,

You Mother
09/07