Hold precious every moment;

Every raindrop;

Every smile

 

Hold precious the miracle of awareness;

Of wonder;

Of feeling

 

That is the monument we will most know you by

Take the sofa and those chairs;

Take that pan-burnt table and the socks under the bed;

Take the armless mugs and the too-much Tupperware;

Take the broom and the pictures and the music;

Then my pillow and the football no longer thrown;

Take the skis replaced years ago and the bass hooked on that lazy summer day;

Take the maps, the guide books and the crumpled money;

Take the guilty unused spices and the partner-less glasses;

Take the scratches;

Take the dents;

Take the dust;

You can pack the laughter and box the shouts;

Then, wrap-up the sound of running feet;

Go ahead;

Take them;

Take them all;

Take them away;

Even if I keep them–they could never stay.

 

October, 2011

not there for the cotton/

not there for the supper/

not there to sweep the porch/

not there to hitch the Sunday buggy/

 

what do the nigger do without the master/

what do the master do without the nigger/

 

pass not looking in the eye/

other end of the bus/

other end of the city/

other end of memory/

 

forgotten now they don’t call ’em nigger anymore.

Here are your golden autumn fields;

Your amber sunsets;

Your ice blue sky;

Your white frost dawn.

 

Here are your foot-worn path;

Your deep mud marsh;

Your thick bent rush;

Your fallen branch.

 

Here your Teal streak;

Your Woodies dive;

Your Mallard cup.

 

Here your wings beat;

Your duck calls bark;

Your first shots ring.

 

Here your wings fold;

Your prey fall.

 

Here you leap;

You grasp.

 

Here you hold forever your fallen treasure;

And, here, you are forever free.