my son said to his two friends
and a debate among boys on a beach
was begun
"yeah, but not to god"
the first boy-friend replied. his name, jackson
"yeah. the water wouldn't even be up to here to god"
said the second. his name, nicholas
"yeah, unless he was six years old"
said my son to them, a proposal
"yeah, but he would still be a giant"
said nicholas, arguing
"yeah"
said jackson
"god IS huge"
said my son with surrender in his voice
"the water is still high, though"
said the friend jackson, wishing truce
after a silence
they went back to their water
and i was left recalling days
of childhood debates
myself
dodging and parrying with friends
with the swords of small minds
over ideas about god and the universe
surrounded by the minutiae of our hot summer days
we lost our minds in those debates
no one winning and egos bruised
hurt and ashamed
that we'd not won the argument
friendships seemed ripped forever
and the wounds from those debates
(which appeared they might bleed eternally)
always mended under the balm of youth
when i looked up again
the boys on this beach
were waded out to their chests
the water having washed the slate clean
and the sun in the sky was the center
and the earth revolved around her
and spun and tilted as ever
and the answers to the why and the how
were less important after all
and seemed to exist in the souls of boys
on a beach
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