Unified Call- We speak their names with
Reverence, and the ancestors rise in
The unseen to witness.
The world reads them before it knows them,
But the obscurity answers; their capital is
Older than any bias.
They learn caution too early, discretion too
Young, yet the unseen strolls with them in
Every stride.
Harm pursues them without petition
But protection gathers like a second horizon,
Shifting the air, not today, not this one.
Their names hold history, optimism, and the
Right to grow old, and the ancestors say each
Name is an ancestry of brilliance.
When the world looks away, injustice transforms
Into bold, but the shadows rise; we do not look
Away.
Truth returns to them like a safeguard,
Justice throbs even when unheard, and the
Unseen closes the circle:
Their lives mattered before the world began, and they matter now, fully incessantly.
There are days when my capacity for anguish runs thin
I can’t grok suffering as deeply as once I did,
In those carefree days of work and timelessness
Lacking the necessary sense of direction to ask
Is this place where I find myself truly mine?
I’d gladly rehash now this desultory vision
To fill the desperate need of balance and calmness
But it always occurs too late to be changed.
Who can tell why the autumn brings this anxiety
In a hindsight, what looks like a budget movie, poorly directed
As if I’m passing some young guy
On a shady street, in a lunch hour
In whom I would never recognize myself
With whom I don't have a word to share.
I walk the halls of ghosts.
Of all who came before.
The memories of the foundry floor
Reverberate in my mind.
I remember silhouettes of friends;
See them smiling there.
I see toolbags, slung up on their backs.
Hear their crazy laughs.
Their grunts of strain. Their eyes in pain. As bolts found home.
As my mind wanders these halls, still entrenched in work,
Thoughts loop large to previous days.
Wishing for days gone by—to reach and grab a piece.
Stuck in the here and now—more in back than in front.
Training new by old. Futures to reveal.
Fresh hands to shake, and smiles to share...
Toolbags of their own.
Perhaps a sign of times, as future comes and goes.
Perhaps a sentimental fool in hallways, I suppose.
- Debra
Bobby still remembers his High School Sophomore year
Rarely do his other memories still ring so clear
But he also recalls letters to Christine (his girl at the time)
They are so vivid he can quote every line
Sometimes they skipped their classes just to talk for a while,
He adored that girl to madness,
her brilliance and style
That year was precious,that year was a bit wild
He's not living with any regrets,
That year and that girl left impressions he'll never forget
By: J.N.R Dutton
It is raining outside! I gaze at the photograph
of my mother!... a young child!... playing in the rain!
Her long, jet-black hair is dripping
onto her dress!... the embroidered flowers are drinking it in.
Barefoot in that captured moment of running—
one foot touches the earth on tiptoe,
the other is in the air!... she balances there, carefree.
Her small hands, like tender tree shoots—
one reaches forward as if following someone,
the other trails behind as if beckoning someone.
The sun shines upon her rosy cheeks;
stars and the moon swim within her eyes.
Outside, the rain has stopped! Through the windowpane
I see blooming flowers dancing in the breeze,
I hear the rustling of trees,
I see the sun’s rose at dusk, at dawn,
and night’s soft, ebony scarf
embroidered with stars and the moon;
I see my mother!... out there!... calling to me!
Through the windowpane… the rain is dripping!
You may find it’s all been said
What you mean to say
But it sounds not too bad
In your own sweet way
You may look out with no aim
Scanning the familiar view
But it isn’t quite the same
For today the morning dew
Burns the leaf it occupies
With the dazzling sun
Welcome to the silent cries
As if you are young
But not near that comprehensive
As the youngsters are
Maybe little over-pensive
With your mind too far
From the problems of today
Too close to the past
Saying what you have to say
Once again too fast..
Young mother, did you know?
Flowers will wither in concrete and cold.
Don't fool yourself.
Did you ever see a petal bloom in a bottle or syringe?
From outside the embrace of the son.
Or the glade of free will?
Has anything ever flowered from a crack house latrine?
From the mouth of puking guns or fatherless streams.
Young mother, don't twist the sky
your garden is in flames.
Don't let them pearl your mind.
Gather up your yearlings before they catch fire.
Nothing will grow in concrete and cold.
Young mother, did you know?
I heard the quiet breaking of your heart
soft as rain against a darkened room
I stood in the doorway (cracked slightly) asking only
if there was space enough for me to come in and talk
You said you were alright through falling tears
but pain had made your voice too small to hide
So, I sat with you in the tender moment
and let the storm spend itself inside
We spoke until the night grew comfortable
until your sorrow loosened little by little
And when I told you I had cared for years
it was not to claim you, only to be truthful
For love, if it is worthy of its name
does not rush a wounded heart along
It waits beside your heart with open hands
and whispers, "I have loved you since we were young"
THE CANDY-DATE KID-NAP
Young chap, Baby on knee.
hardly old enough to vote. Settle to nap,
Just out of mother's lap, and form dreaming.
knowledge of government still remote. Blasted! Jet fly, he up.
Must take the plunge sometime, though, Maybe now he
now is as good a time as any startle poo' chap.
to walk the straight and narrow, Cause warm feeling.
stand on one's own and be free. Bastard! Wet on my lap!
Here we go:
(moment's hesitation)
right before left.
Got it, good show!
……PERAMBULATION.
All the people who are gone
All the ones who learned to fly
They all flew on passed the sun
They all were too young to say good-bye
All the people that have died
All the people that passed the moon
We all try to wonder why
Why all these people have died too soon
Were there lives just meant to end
All the people who have gone away
Why isn't it us instead of them
Was it just meant to be that way
All the people that we loved
All the people that we knew
They were all too young to have to die
When they said good-bye to me and you
Some were family, some were friends
Why did they have to pass so soon
Why'd they have to pass the sun
And why'd they have to pass the moon
All the people who are gone
May they rest in peace where they lie
All the people that have passed
They were all too young to have to die
I´d like to say goodbye.
To the girl who smiled every time she saw a butterfly.
To the girl who always saw joy in sorrow
To the girl who dreamed of tomorrow.
I´d like to apologize.
That I didn´t prepare you for all the starless skies
That I didn`t warn you about all the heartbreak.
That I didn´t warn you about the tears after every mistake.
I´d like to say
You´ll feel better one day...
You´ll be happy
Just wait and see
I have nothing bad to say to those who die young
It’s no fault of theirs
For in old age they may have foreseen a life so
Burdensome, so demanding, so tiring and so wizened,
With their cute faces eventually lost to the freshness
Of beauty, raw or enhanced.
Imagine wiry, annoying smuts christened grey hair —weeds
On a gold field!
And with “Don’t eat this, don’t drink that.
They are not good for your age.
The time has passed when they would have done your
Body no harm,” rammed into their youthful ears by
Loquacious physicians.
Oh, God!
No!
They had heard enough!
They had seen enough!
So they decide to bow out early, before
It’s all too late, and rainy.
For them, it’s better too soon, with the gurgling
Blood of youth in them, and sunny, than too late, with the
Crinkling bones of senectitude.
Oh, to Hell with sageness!
When I was younger I was scared of the dark
I thought someone was going to hurt me as I got older i wasn't scared anymore
Hi there, my young friend
I want to give you some advice
to assure you on your given path
The Lord has it planned, real precise
I've travelled this road many years
had some hard knocks on the way
but take heart, you will get there
no matter the struggles, walk on each day
Your stammer is a real bind
I know I had it too all my years
even now it can be a real pain
but don't let it bring you to tears
Be content with all your lot
learn to accept it as your own
trust God for He knows best
He'll take you over every painful stone
Even when alone, take courage to speak
ignore all that are against you
their problem is bigger than yours
learn from me, as all I've said is true
(The story behind this piece is my advice now, in my 70s, to my younger self some 50-odd years ago.)
It gleamed gaudily a worldly eye that did not see beaten hot metal in the forge, through the window in the back of the room lit, was the young girl's zepher stone retrofitted for glitz, like gamey sorted clothes that have been run by the huntress, should Athena ever stake claim in the orchard's abundance.
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