Search This Blog

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

LOVE LOST

Classic, perennial theme
of storytellers, song writers,
poets, movie makers.
Always bittersweet, or, to be more
precise, sweetbitter, due to the usual
pattern of felicity giving
way to its opposite.
Always a crowd-pleaser, inducing,
if not tears, at least a rueful sigh,
a sad shake of the head over
what once was,
what might have been if only . . .

I hereby register complaint.
No, a counterview, a rebuttal.
Love is never lost. By its very nature
love is not loseable. Love accumulates,
infuses, multiplies. How did the ancient
song put it . . . many waters cannot
quench it? Yes. And don't forget
that saint from Tarsus who
insisted that it never ends.

It doesn't, not really.
Think back to your life,
your own "lost loves."
See what I mean?

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

LESSON PLAN

When you are lost in a city
-- not really lost, of course,
but turned around, confused,
unsure, unable to find
your way . . . okay, lost --
you will go up to strangers,
people you would never
ordinarily give a moment's
notice to, and you will
throw yourself into their
care. You will trust them.

If you have never been lost
in a city, you should.

Go, get yourself to a city.
Get good and lost.
Get lost.
Get good.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

SONGS IN THE NIGHT

Perry Como used to croon that when
he was worried and couldn't sleep
he counted his blessings instead
of . . . well, you can guess. 
Good for him, I suppose.
I've tried it. Doesn't work.
Mostly I call up the people
I've known, many of them gone:
childhood friends or schoolmates
who may really be gone or
simply grown old somewhere.
Simon and Garfunkel wanted to know
where Joe DiMaggio had gone, and
maybe Perry Como too, even though
they didn't say so.

How about you, Mrs. Robinson,
or whatever your name is? Who do
you miss who has left and gone away?
Hey Hey Hey?

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

FAITH RESTORED

I don't remember his name
and not much of his story.
Like many others, he needed money,
in his case enough to fill his gas tank.
When, like many others, he assured me
this was just a loan, not a handout,
I tried not to look irritated.

When, a month later, an envelope
post-marked New Jersey came
a check was inside and photos
of his wife and child. Photos!