the stories and things
to tell and teach,
go to Africa,
at the place
to the earth,
I really don’t remember many things about him, but yet, after nearly 25 years, I can still see his face so clearly in my mind.
I can’t recall ever having a one-on-one conversation with him, but I’m sure, at some point, during the three months that I took his class, I must have.
Of his many lessons, there is only one that I actually remember, and even in that memory, I don’t remember him. What I do remember is walking outside, far from our school, and at his instruction, listening intently for the sounds that entered my ears.
Walking meditation. This was my first experience with it, and during a high school elective class, he, Mr. Nowak, was the teacher who introduced me to it.
It’s strange. I have forgotten pretty much everything about him, but I don’t think I will ever forget him. He was the type of person who somehow burrows inside of you and just stays there.
When I heard about his death a decade ago, in a traffic accident at a crossroads in Africa, I wrote this poem. I happened to come across it the other day while cleaning out the random documents in my computer and decided to share it here with all of you.
This is deep! I have met people who have inspired me at some point in this journey and their memories are indelible.
Beautiful piece in honour of a man who influenced you. !PIZZA 🙂
Indelible, that’s a nice word. Communicating mostly in my second language, there are a lot of English words that I don’t come across anymore.
I’m glad to hear that you’ve met these people in your journey too.
The poem alone is very moving. I do this at the places my loved ones died, if I have access to them (OK there's only one, and it's in my house). Adding the story about the man and how he taught you to listen, makes it even more powerful. I love your poetry! No frills to decode, no fancy language complicating a touching moment in time. Really solid stuff! You make it look so easy, but I know it's not. I'm glad you found this one.
There were a few others with this one that I’ll share eventually. They were a strange glimpse into my past, written in different decade, in a different country, from a different perspective, with different hopes and desires.
Of course, I remember writing them, but in a lot of ways, finding them again was more like coming across a book of poems in a library and enjoying what was written than finding something that I had written myself.
My wife and children don’t know that I write poetry. And I haven’t talked about it with them because 1. until recently, it was only something that I did in a past life, and 2. translating the poems into the language we speak together is beyond my ability.
My father-in-law is even an aspiring haiku poet. I enjoy listening to him talk about poetry and even trying to understand the haiku that he has written, but I don’t talk about mine.
Funny, isn’t it
So many amazing "teachers" cross our paths in life and there's so much to learn from each and every single one of them. It all depends on us, whether we're ready and eager enough to listen, to understand the depth of each sentence, depict the wisdom and plethora of feelings that is communicated. Short, sharp, to the point. Thanks for sharing!
I agree. Teachers are all around us.
If you wrote a book I would read it. Probably more than more than a few times.
If it were an encyclopedia … ? 😉
I'd keep it open in front of me always. 👍🏻
Sorry for losing someone who impacted your knowledge to you.
It's beautiful to read that he still lives in your memory.
I wasn’t sure what I was really trying to convey when I wrote the story behind this poem, but it’s become a little clearer to me now. He was a person who taught and showed people things without them knowing or even realizing they had learned anything or had changed by coming into contact with him. So even though all those typical details that we associate with memory disappear, the meanings and the teachings he gave are left behind.
I don’t know. It’s difficult to articulate well.
But he was a man with a lot give.
That's so beautiful to know, even though he's no more I am sure his legacy still lives on.
Your poem is POWERFUL!!
It sounds as if Mr. Nowak was the sort of man who passed the torch of knowledge and inspiration. I had a teacher like that too, the last time I saw him was over 20 years ago, yet I can still remember the keen spark in his eye, and the way he smiled when he handed me a paper with a big red A on it...
Thank you for a lovely read 😁
He was very charismatic. And yes, he did have a twinkle in his eyes.
I never saw him or spoke to him again after high school, but I imagine he continued moving people in ways they didn’t even realize until years later. That’s what made him special. You could forget all about him and then years later realize how much he impacted you.
Beautiful poem with a heartfelt tale. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you.
What an emotional and touching homage to someone who certainly had an impact on your life. It's amazing how certain people can touch our hearts and stay with us even though we don't recall every detail about them. Your expression of emotions through poetry is a beautiful way to honor his memory.
Thank you. It is amazing about people can impact us, and how it can sometimes take years to realize that they did. When other things fade from memory, we sometimes find these minor things and characters sticking around, which, of course, shows us that they aren’t so minor.
Yay! 🤗
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