Julian Ungar-Sargon

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  • Home
  • Theological Essays
  • Healing Essays
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  • Deep Dive Ditty
  • Videos
  • Publications
  • Military Service
  • Dominican University

Poems

Moving Poetry by Dr. Julian Ungar-Sargon

Lying on My Chest

Julian Ungar-Sargon January 11, 2009

I lie slowly in the darkness of the night

my grandson breathes deeply on me.

he had been awakened and was frightened or just

disoriented now I took him to cuddle with and calm him

his head rests lightly on my chest and I am in heaven.

there is no greater pleasure and no greater sadness.

My thoughts go back to July 4th 1985

when Sam and I were on a sailboat "Piece of Heaven" I

think I named it Chesapeake Bay, out for a couple of days

over July 4th holiday

starry night but not really calm

too nauseating to sleep below deck

so I lay on deck

and my older son Eli

lay on top of me as I warmed him with a blanket.

Then too I thought this was heaven

truly... Under the starry skies I was brought back to my

early days when I'd walk out to watch the heavens by the

brook behind our home in Finchley as a teenager thinking

of eternity and man's short destiny.

So much has happened since then

and as a father

another generation

no longer father and son

he has gone his own way

forging his own dreams.

and now as a grandfather I hold this boy

feeling only blessed and privileged to be present to this

holy moment of awareness.

I bless all you fathers and grandfathers to experience just

this

just this moment in time

when you glimpse eternity

when you get an inkling of what history is really made of

the stuff of myth

fathers and sons

fathers and grandsons

and I adjure you to hold that very moment as I do

cherish it as it will fuel you throughout all that is coming

the degeneration and infirmity

the disease and old age

I bless my father and grandfather

as I think of Dada and the Julius I never knew

whose ashes are strewn in the ground in a polluted

continent and after whom I am named

I bless the ancestors who lie in cold earth in foreign lands

and cemeteries whose souls I pray for.

I think of Dada's green cardigan and the smell that was his

alone

and no more,

His hug when opening the door on Mallard Way in

Kingsbury each Sunday afternoon.

Little did I know how much I needed that hug, that is now

embedded in memory and keeps me going at times.

His hug as a grandfather, his name as Dada

I now seek to perpetuate with this hug

this child

this inquiring soul

with long blond locks

This Divine Child.

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Julian Ungar-Sargon

This is Julian Ungar-Sargon's personal website. It contains poems, essays, and podcasts for the spiritual seeker and interdisciplinary aficionado.​