Barack Encounter at Punahou - 1/1/09

[mahina]

Like a stage door Johnny

I wait

absolutely smitten

by his intelligence, eloquence,

moral compass, calm

I want to watch his game

but must imagine his grace under fire

in the closely protected gym

as he receives a pass,

jukes his opponent

and hits the fifteen foot jumper!

We stand -

a small expectant group

in hopes we'll catch a glimpse,

maybe even shake the hand

of the man who executed a give and go

with and then against Reverend Jeremiah Wright,

ran a zone defense with a race relations speech,

did a full court press on Hilary Clinton,

went man to man on John McCain,

then did a power drive to November 4.

Naismith would be surprised

at how his peach basket game has changed.



I feel silly

mid-fifties and star struck,

like a kid with a crush,

until I see colleagues

some my elders

social studies teachers

who realize the momentous occasion

for what it is.



On the roof

two Secret Service sharpshooters

have their scopes trained on us,

watchful eagles searching for prey,

give clarity to the significance

of this singular life.



Eventually the SWAT team

exit the locker room ramp -

Grim Reapers in battle dress uniform

rows upon rows of pockets

march across each side

of their body armor vests.

They carry various sized black bags -

surveillance kits and weapons enough

to constitute a small army.



Minutes later he appears

to ripples of whispers,

"There he is! There he is!"

"Where? Where?"

"There."

And I see him.

He quickly looks over the crowd

then comes straight to my friend, Peg,

beside me,

she was a year behind him in school,

she introduces herself, kisses him,

I mention that she played basketball,

he asks, "You still got game, Peggy?"

She says, "Yes, I do, Barack."

He shakes a few hands behind her,

I reach out

he takes my hand,

I stammer my question,

he does remember my mother,

says he loved her,

that she kicked him out of the library

on a regular basis,

he keeps shaking my hand

with a gentle grip,

neither firm nor limp,

we release briefly

but not wanting to let go

I grab his hand again in a "soul shake"

he keeps smiling

then moves on to outstretched hands behind me

I tell my son to reach out

they shake hands

my son grins his most beautiful grin

the moment is over

but still in his presence

I watch as he graciously

makes his way down the long line of admirers,

greets the screaming young basketball girls

as they crush each other reaching for his hand.



Two Secret Service men

with revealing earpiece

and wire running down their necks

move in step beside him

their grim expressions all business

Prepared

in an instant

to take a bullet for him.



He waves from the black SUV

as he and entourage depart -

I'm grateful for the moment,

for the vigilance that surrounds this man

who means so much to so many.



I know he's got game.



by Marion Lyman-Mersereau
This poem was written by a one of my son's teachers. She teaches 7th graders, a Punahou grad herself, paddler, surfer … a wonderful lady.

[babylonsister]

1. mahina, thank you, and thank Ms. Lyman-Mersereau. I loved this. nt

[mahina]

2. Will do babylonsister.

Aloha.

[Frustratedlady]

3. Love this writing. Thanks for posting.

Very descriptive and touching.

[tabatha]

4. That was one of the most flowing poems I have ever read.

i.e. the words just flowed easily, one after the other, into a vivid portrait of an encounter.

[gblady]

5. thank you so much for this.....

I enjoyed this immensely.

[Ani Yun Wiya]

6. WOW.

This is poetic excellence.
Thank you.

[mahina]

7. Thanks! She's a great teacher.

I loved that her Mom kicked Barack out of the library "on a regular basis."

I'm no poet myself.

[K Gardner]

8. I'm bawling like a baby ! Absolutely mesmerizing poem.. and did its job, almost like

I was there. When I read the part about taking a bullet for him, the thought immediately ran through my mind: I'd take one for him, too, without hesitation.

I'm printing this and hanging it over my desk. Thank you !