Gregory Richard Barden Poet Rhyme

Notes About The Poem

ancient embers

( iambic tetrameter )


       my chief ...

my thoughts go back to that again -
              the day you found me on the plain
                     a-bleeding from a musket wound
       and dying slow with fear and pain

              mine own folk left me there to die
                     and not spend cares for such as I
       an orphaned white boy, still a child
with troubled heart, I won't deny

                     yet you and yours lent mercy then
       with no concerns of who I'd been
and reared me as your very own
              to gain the ways of Tlingit men

       my course - sure not an easy life
more basic, yes, but hardship rife
              and still my gut and heart are full
                     with joys of fam’ly, food and wife …

and now I watch this poignant fire
              hot-sparkling cinders drifting high’r
                     while tribe and I conduct you home
       all dancing ‘round your fun’ral pyre

              these flaming embers turn the thief
                     and steal you off, dear father, chief
       so sad, I yet command the flames
to scorch away my crushing grief …

                     and yet, as each one climbs on high
       those precious mem’ries - you … and I
are borne tow’rd heaven, ever-bright
              and placed as stars …

                      upon the sky.





~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~

( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )

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