The Dust of Life

I came about when the world was hot and embroiled in a rumble. When transit men carried all they had in a frayed bundle. When steel was gold or so I was told, and silkworms are of quietude, for less the people that need them. When Swinging On A Star was the national anthem. When sugar was rationed, and horse meat the staple, and vouchers held the value of money. From heart distress, we wonder how relentless thou art in a promise of milk and honey. I was carried into my teens by voluntary ships on raging seas, and I was cognizant of stiff black bodies hanging from Southern trees under incidental nights. It was when I was shaken into the consciousness from the cries of freedom marchers, who claimed the thunderous moments of the Northern lights. My soul has grown deeply grievous of the unrighteousness of humanity. For it is from dust we came to dust we return in a nation of sand. Excerpt from A Float with Memories by Mary E.W. Stephenson copyright 2002