Poetry from Daily Life: Watch your children and see what words they bring you

This week’s guest is Marcus Cafag?a, who was born in Michigan and lived in Pennsylvania before moving to the Ozarks to teach poetry writing at Missouri State University. Marcus says he gave up playing the violin when he was 12 to become more serious about writing poems. He has written short stories and book reviews but always returned to poetry. A favorite book to write, "All the Rage in the Afterlife This Season," took 15 years in the making. Marcus is a film buff and sports fan and quite proud of his son, Diego, who is now a college student. ~ David L. Harrison

Writing poems about our children

Of all the gifts our children give us, such as their innocence and good nature, their curiosity about the world is one particularly worth cherishing. My wife Jenn and I often witnessed our son Diego’s cheeks colored by his inquisitive nature, a child we had named after the famous Mexican muralist Diego Rivera. By the age of four, he was drawing his own lines and shapes upon the bare white walls of our home.

Every day, our little Diego would dig into his box of crayons and mark up the living room walls. We tried scolding him. We cleaned off the marks he’d made as best we could, but he wouldn’t stop drawing. We even bought him an easel, but he found the roll of craft paper a poor substitute for the spacious canvas of plaster walls.

It wasn’t until the time he had decorated the interior panels of our front door with red cloud-like shapes that I recalled a poetry reading where I heard Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Sharon Olds exclaim: “Our children just walk into a room and give us a poem.” Standing in the living room that morning watching my little boy play at being an artist moved me to write the following poem.

Little Diego, the Muralist

We don’t know what to make

of his scribbling on the walls

of our living room, on the walls

of our kitchen, his bedroom,

in red crayon. Diego will draw

on any available surface,

ignore our pleas not to,

ignore the easel we bought him.

We’re so far past the point

of trying, my wife and I wonder

if these random lines and circles

are his protest against

a grown-up world that says No!

to the same artistic impulse

as Rivera’s. Just yesterday,

on the front door, he drew

what appears to be a series

of storm clouds. With one red

cloud each, he’s adorned

the nine white panels of the door.

But this time, Jenn and I

admire what he’s drawn,

as if, in molten wax, our little boy

has blessed the scorched air

of Mexico with clouds

that might soon deliver

the blessing of rain and miracle

of the desert blooming green.

He smiles with a knowing look

when we say the old door

never looked so beautiful—

festooned as it is with red clouds

and the promise they hold.

Marcus Cafag?a is the author of three books of poetry: "The Broken World," a National Poetry Series selection, "Roman Fever" and "All the Rage in the Afterlife This Season." Born and raised in Michigan, he made a home in the Ozarks 26 years ago. Currently, he serves as professor emeritus at Missouri State University. “Little Diego, the Muralist” is reprinted from "All the Rage in the Afterlife This Season" (Finishing Line Press, 2023).

This article originally appeared on Springfield News-Leader: Poetry from Daily Life: When our children bring us poems