Young America
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I am not sure if cartographic history will unveil Young America. It is part of Barton, Wisconsin
The soliloquy of a late-night train whistle in the distance
Calls out to me like past voices, and the insistence
Of God’s voice is echoed in Pastor David's sermon
(Growth? the Holy Spirit will determine)
As if God were speaking directly to me, germane
To the haunting of my past, it has been whispering of late
Getting me to focus and to contemplate about
The people I’ve wronged and the sin-filled reveries shout
Out things once hid (and forgotten) brought into the light
And on these undulating seas that I traverse late at night
I am brought back again to the whistle of the train
As it fades into the distance in refrain
(I have often crossed the trestle (in
Young America) with these thoughts I wrestle
Give me peace dear Lord
As I walk on t'ward, Amen)
Copyright © Michael Ramel | Year Posted 2025
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