In the St. James Presbyterian Church office,
under the gaze of the Rev. Dr. Lenton Gunn,
who had served on the Advisory Committee of the
Presbyterian Hunger Program at the same time I did,
a parallel of timing occurred to me:
in early October 2000, I moved to Louisville
and so had been there not yet a year
when on a crisp, bright, blue, beautiful New York day,
the attacks of September 11, 2001 took place,
in early October 2010, I moved to Manhattan
and so had been here not yet a year
when on a crisp, bright, blue, beautiful New York day,
the city, the country, the world
remembered the attacks for the tenth time.
What to make of this? I know not.
I note the parallel, but my understanding remains
unfinished.
11 September 2011
St. James Presbyterian Church
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
In therapist’s office,
you talk through bad times;
on found scraps of paper
I scribble poor rhymes.
6 September 2011
Downtown 1 Train
Filed under Poem
The past
can haunt us,
inspire us,
live within us,
shape us,
guide us,
influence us,
come out in our lives at times
and in ways that we never expect.
The past
may not even exist,
at least at times,
according to Faulkner; “the past is never dead;
it’s not even past.”
The past:
remember – never forget?
let bygones be bygones?
The past:
repress,
confess,
address,
suppress,
profess,
possess,
regress,
express,
invest,
protest,
digest?
The past
has seen me try
and come up short; and yet,
despite the past,
in spite of the past,
because of the past
I try again.
I try again.
5 September 2011
on the way to the gym
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
Filed under Photo
The train jerked to as stop as it
entered the 72nd Street station.
He prepared to stand,
our eyes met for a New York instant.
I smiled reflexively,
he looked back perplexedly.
Averting his eyes,
he gripped the pole,
pulled himself to his feet,
and left the car.
31 August 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
A search for “Storm” in the song title brought the following playlist on my iPod. Clearly the timing on some of them makes a difference to a true playlist. This is simply an alphabetical list.
After the Storm – Bill Miller
The Great Storm Is Over – John McCutcheon
The Lightning Storm – Flogging Molly
Orphan of the Storm – Black 47
Riders on the Storm – The Doors
Shelter from the Storm – Bob Dylan
Singer in the Storm – Holly Near
A Storm Is Coming – The Return of the King
Storms in Africa – Enya
Weather out the Storm – Figgy Duff
See you along the Trail
Irene approaches.
Hurricane?
Tropical storm?
Whatever.
Irene approaches.
I prepare.
Purchase supplies
Straighten the apartment.
Move and position items.
I prepare.
I wait.
Contacting family and friends.
Tweeting, posting.
Pacing, writing.
I wait.
And the waiting reminds
of the privileges that are mine.
I could have left,
friends would host me,
I chose to stay.
Unlike some whose circumstances
limit their choices,
options were mine.
Unlike some whose choice
was taken away:
New York has not
abandoned me,
devalued me
left me behind
on a landfill-created island
because of what I have done,
what I have been accused of doing,
or where I work,
options were mine.
I chose to stay.
I have a place, a solid place,
a roof above,
walls around;
I have funds to buy supplies;
water, flashlights, candles,
food that needs no cooking.
I have so much,
and others have but little,
still others none at all.
I wait.
And the waiting reminds me
of the privileges that are mine.
I wait.
And I wonder,
after the waiting,
what I will do differently
with the privileges that are mine?
27 August 2011
Shire on the Hudson
Filed under Poem
Filed under Photo
Along the Graybeard Trail 
