are some shadows souls
moving in the light of day
saying please listen
but the world is becoming
darkness so no place for souls
life sometimes implodes
crystallized joys become dust
and are blown away
standing by the well
the old man’s tears filled its depths
until his fears died
i had
to take
aunt bea
to her cousin’s house
to discuss
some family business
en route
i bent
her ear
about
my discouragement
with
what’s been happening
throughout
our nation
how
i was
starting
to feel
like
just withdrawing
from
all the battles
i
continued
in that vein
until
we had to cross over
an old rusty
and
wood-planked bridge
the kind
that
terrified me
as a child
aunt bea
giggled
as she watched
my face
guess i didn’t
hide my
terror
too well
aunt bea
said
i still recall
when
you and your cousin
would cross over
the river train trestle
to get
to that
good
fishing hole
near
your grandmother’s house
you
never admitted
to your cousin ronnie
that
you were
scared to death
not only
of
drowning
in the river below
but
of being crushed
by
a passing freight train
but
the fishing
was good
so
you
soldiered on
it was
without doubt
a classic
approach-avoidance situation
and
although
at this point
in our nation’s history
we’d love to
avoid the unpleasantries
but
we still must cross
the bridge
to
the future
where
the fishing
will be
good
terminal illness
patient in induced coma
life support measures
last night’s sounds you heard
explained away by logic
shouldn’t have been ignored
From Private Collection: C.W. Martin
details of the past
fade like old albumen prints
in each new day’s light