Laces: For World Poetry Day

Today, March 21st, is World Poetry Day, established by UNESCO in 1999 to support linguistic diversity in poetry, and to elevate the visibility and practice of poetry and other oral traditions. (Rading poetry out loud is a treat that is far less common than it should be.) I was moved by Jesse Smith's post today of her original poem about jewelry making (yes, she is the daughter of the incomparable Patti Smith) and that reminded me about how visual art and writing are often so linked together. 

It got me thinking of how baseball has been such an important part of my life, remembering back in high school when I really held a baseball for the first time, and it deeply moved me. Ever since then, as a baseball fan and admirer of the design, art, and other physical elements of the game, I've come back to how holding a ball has always made me feel, and now that the world is opening up again (both with the coming of spring and an end in sight for the pandemic), I was moved to write the lines below. I hope that you enjoy them...

Laces

When I held a baseball for the first time,

fresh from the box, unstained by bats or grass,

My fingers traced the stitches, as perfect as human hands could have made them

(even then feeling connected to the old ladies who stitched the covers on, far away in Haiti),

the whiff of fresh new leather, not yet scuffed by the world.

I was never much of a ballplayer,

more of an observer, collector, fan, creator,

taking in the stories from long ago, of the called shot, and the one heard round the world,

being present for milestone home runs and playoff games clinched,

knowing all the firsts and greatests, Jackie, Hank, and Julie,

painting, and writing about all of it.

Now we look to fields of grass, to see each other at long last,

to tramping barefoot over lush fields,

And I'll have a ball, tracing the laces.