Like These Drums

For Kevin Kelley, husband, father, artist, teacher. After drum prelude, memorial service, December 20, 2012

We hear the drums
and we can say
that they’re the distillation of days
into beats
or the percolation of cups
of coffee that mark the hours.

Or we can say they’re the emblem
of your life, of inspiration banging into the arms
of the artist, or of love
into the hands of the husband
and father.

Or we can say they’re the pulse
of another passion hooked,
or of a field of fish
rising to the surface
in mourning.

Or we can say they’re the spark and pop
of flame, fire, cinder,
the final sigh of ash.

Or we can say that they’re the piston pumps
of the engine that carries you
into the hum of eternity,
or the stitches in the seams of the fabric
of being, in the stretch
of the drum’s skin
that sends vibration
into the breath
of every thing.

Or we can say that you’re here,
like these drums, heart beating
and alive.

If the doors of perception were cleansed,
every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. –William Blake

Published in Spark: The Magazine for Alumni, Parents, and Friends of The Collegiate School