Every morning,
the pain comes.
Upon waking,
the pain comes.
Different places,
the pain comes.
Different degrees,
the pain comes.
Constant companion,
the pain comes.
Keep on going,
the pain comes.
UA 3460
ORD – SDF
17 April 2012
Category Archives: Poem
The pain comes
Filed under Poem
Arriba
Roberto Clemente (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Standing in the sanctuary,
holding up the line
of those who sought to leave,
José and I spoke
of baseball present and baseball past,
and our conversation’s magic conjured you.
From the sea you rose,
to stride proudly across the beach,
pass through the mists
of memory and time and
take your place
on the green right field grass
of the stadium near
where two rivers end and one begins.
For a moment,
a fleeting moment,
an endless moment:
your good strong arm and lightning bat,
your graceful lope and glove of gold,
your passion for the game,
your commitment to humanity
back where they belong.
And a smile crosses my face.
And a tear fills my eye
And all is pain.
And all is well.
And all is well.
Arriba!
15 April 2012
Brooklyn and Manhattan
Related articles
- Time to give Roberto Clemente his place with Jackie Robinson (repeatingislands.com)
In the elevator
His short legs did reach the floor,
but barely lifted his small body
eight or nine inches above it.
The elevator light gave his canine eyes
a sheen of green as in silence he
peered intently up at me.
Was it friendship I saw
or merely lust for the sandwich I carried?
I will never know as
the elevator lurched to a stop
and he followed his owner
into the hall.
9 April 2012
Morningside Gardens
Filed under Poem
Chance meeting
In a place beyond remembering,
at a time now forgotten,
for a purpose that dances on recall’s fickle fringe
our lives met and briefly touched.
Talking, we sit upon the train,
lost memory perched between us.
Recognition briefly tingles,
but nothing more emerges and
I could not say
where or
when or
why or
who.
Can you?
3 April 2012
7 Train from Grand Central to Times Square
Filed under Poem
Tottering
At times
I totter on the brink
of doing something beyond the realm of utter foolishness,
or saying something outside the bounds of total stupidity:
something that would have
consequences I can perceive
and ramifications I cannot imagine.
I totter –
it would be so easy to cross that invisible, but real line –
it could feel so good (for the moment) –
it would meet so many selfish needs.
I totter –
but pull back,
the deed left undone,
the words choked unspoken in my mouth.
A sigh of relief escapes my lips,
a shard of regret pierces my heart.
25 March 2012
Arlington, VA
Filed under Poem
I say a prayer
I toured the United Nations yesterday. They have a display of quilts.
This one comes from Bosnia and Herzegovina. Part of a larger quilt, it commemorates the Srebrenica massacre when between 7,000 and 8,000 Bosnian Muslims were killed.
Each square remembers one of the men or boys killed.
I noticed how many times last names repeat. Notice the top row – where all the names are the same; or the bottom row – four names the same. Even in the middle rows, the names repeat.
Fathers and sons? Brothers? Cousins? My heart aches as I wonder and say a prayer for all victims. I say a prayer for the women and all who grieve. I say a prayer that the human race may find the grace to put an end to such atrocities.
And after a moment, a moment that hangs like an eternity, I say a prayer for those who commit atrocities.
See you along the Trail.
Filed under Human Rights, Poem
Subway incantation
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
As he makes his way up the crowded stairs, he chants.
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
As he hears the train above the crowd, he chants.
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
As he crests the final stair, he chants.
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
As he watches the train leave, he chants.
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
As he wonders what to do, he chants.
Hold on
Hold on
Hold on
7 March 2012
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
Did I?
He sits alone
and nurses wounds inflicted
by sharp criticisms,
the cuts deeper,
the pain more keenly felt
since he cannot remember
and so is left to wonder:
“Did I?”
“What else did I?”
7 March 2012
1 Train
Manhattan
Filed under Poem
Unfulfilled
Letters combine, collide, dance
still fail to make a word.
Do they notice?
Do they feel unfulfilled?
These letters strung together
piling up beside each other
yet creating nothing
providing no meaning?
10 February 2012
Shire near the Hudson
Filed under Poem
79th Street smile
Headphones surrounding her ears
like metal rubber earmuffs,
she leaned her head against the car wall,
eyes securely shut.
Seeking sleep?
Pursuing escape from the noise of the 1 train?
Concentrating?
The train jerked to a stop at 79th;
her eyes fluttered and opened.
For an instant, our eyes connected.
I smiled.
I always smile.
For an instant,
an even briefer instant,
a nano-instant?
a tiny smile danced across her face until,
as if she realized what she was doing,
the smile turned wry,
she squeezed her eyes tightly shut,
and sank further into her seat.
I looked away as the train pulled from the station.
3 February 2012
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
Along the Graybeard Trail 