Up Too Close

UP TOO CLOSE When I was three I was taken To a shipyard for the launch, The graceful wetting of a ship - Elegant sweep of a warship, Huge yet sleek, strong and fast Close-up front-row seat, Facing me a tall wall of steel. There it sat on blocks waiting To slide to the river and be born: An aircraft carrier mountainous With flight deck overhang Blocking out the sky around. Everyone laughed when I asked, “But where is the carrier?” It was too close to us: We needed to be further away. My cousins lived in houses nearby - Complained about the ship being Too high – blocked out the daylight For two construction years. Caused cracks in the ground With its thousands of tons; Employed husbands for some time But then threw them on dole. They scorned when I said, “Isn’t the carrier beautiful!” It was too close to them: They needed to be further away. My uncle John was a good man - Worked in the shipyard. Taught me how to saw wood, Fix shoes, finish a job, Play harmonica, speak German. He never complained at my Childish misbehavior when I broke or stole something. He was like a father. I didn’t see his great Importance; I guess I was up too close. I only saw it when he died. I needed A distance to see his real character.