As if I were reminded of a dream
I had, by simple movement on the day
that followed, or when random postures seem
informative, by showing me the way
I must have torqued to earn an injury
not catastrophic but by age induced,
travails that you last week described to me
have struck a chord. Old memory is loosed.

As you endure and struggle with the cause
your teen presents, I vibrate like a drum.
I hear your agony; I feel the claws
of impotence and anxious worry. From
three decades plus, I get it. I’m surprised
to comprehend how I was traumatized.