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Every once in awhile, a
poem unexpectedly shapes itself in my mind, and I write it down.
Here's the result.
Arecibo Experience
The ocean pounds in,
Wave after wave, endless, infinite --
Constant, yet ever-changing.
I stand on the shore
And feel the power and majesty.
It beats in. The waves tower, then become
Gentle at my feet.
Its vastness is the vastness of the universe --
The pattern of waves and tides
Is the pattern of the stars.
I breathe the salt air,
I feel with joy the spray on my face,
I hear the roar of surf on rocks.
Every sense responds and is filled
Until the sea becomes a part of me.
With gratitude I welcome it;
It is freedom, love, eternity.
I transcend myself, and
I... am... the ocean..
-12/23/70
Drifting Snow
The snow falls, spreading its mantle of white
Over autumn's cold brown fields.
Night comes; with deft and gentle fingers
The rising wind restyles the powdery raiment,
And morning light reveals a fresh cloak
To please the gaze of snowbound admirers.
-1/20/63
Night Frost
White-laced trees,
voluptuous,
striking poses
in the early stillness;
Waiting to be
ravished by the sun...
-12/5/74
Unwanted Child
Item in newspaper: John A., 18, killed his grandparents,
with whom he was living, with a 22.
Conceived in a moment of lust,
Brought grudgingly into the world,
At eleven he looked old.
He consumed violence and immorality
With his soda pop and candy bars.
Some weekends he was beaten.
I was his teacher that year.
He was bright, but chafed against
The need for rules.
Too vulnerable, he had built
A shell of hostility.
Obscenities flowed freely from lips
While opaque eyes glittered hard and bright.
Yet unsuspected, I surprised those same eyes
In moods of gentle compassion, warm humor.
We tried to help.
Rebuffed, we tried again.
He needed love, but trusted no one.
I wept then, fearing what would be.
Now, seven years (and how many hurts?) later,
He has killed. Taken two lives.
Lives that were dedicated to helping him.
I weep now for the senseless waste.
Did he ever have a chance? -1/4/76
Oral Surgeon's Office
Waiting.
My jaw throbs as I stare
At the splendid Rembrandt print,
Beneath which sits a woman
With knee-hi hose rolled to her puffy ankles.
The couch has a hole plucked in its naugahyde
By nervous fingers;
Acoustical ceilings dispense Muzak.
Smells are stale-sterile,
Colors dull-soothing.
The place reeks of uncomfortable resignation.
Oh, you with the golden helmet,
Does anyone ever scream in here?
-5/5/76
Autumn
The leaf
floats down,
skipping,
soaring,
dancing --
Flung
bright with color against autumn's blue sky,
On one
last glorious journey into the unknown.
May I be
like that leaf --
Drinking
in the sun's warmth,
Rejoicing
in untethered freedom,
Never
afraid to let opportunities take my life
along new paths.
Loving the
journey,
unafraid of its conclusion.
-9/18/96
Cape Cod
The sea oats, stubborn
against salt wind,
Swirl and twist against the knobby dunes.
A lone gull soars, holding against the sky
Until he sees his prey below;
Then dives to skim the waves...
-9/10/99
Four Corners
(on the road from Canyonlands to Canyon de Chelly)
Against the sunlit clouds
Far distant on the horizon
The ancient monuments loom.
I drive alone
Into the land of peace and beauty.
-9/18/01
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