1.
Oh yes, friend! I'm crazy-
that's just the way I am.
2.
I see sounds,
I hear sights,
I taste smells,
I touch not heaven but things from the underworld,
things people do not believe exist,
......
I am not yet born; O hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the
club-footed ghoul come near me.
I am not yet born, console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.
I am not yet born; provide me
......
I.
I dream of you walking at night along the streams
of the country of my birth, warm blooms and the nightsongs
of birds opening around you as you walk.
You are holding in your body the dark seed of my sleep.
II.
This comes after silence. Was it something I said
......
Old elm that murmured in our chimney top
The sweetest anthem autumn ever made
And into mellow whispering calms would drop
When showers fell on thy many coloured shade
And when dark tempests mimic thunder made -
While darkness came as it would strangle light
With the black tempest of a winter night
That rocked thee like a cradle in thy root -
How did I love to hear the winds upbraid
Thy strength without - while all within was mute.
......
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
......
The path is narrow, yet they walk.
Eyes set on a distant fire,
a flicker against the weight of dusk.
No one calls them forward,
no hand guides their steps,
only the pull of something unseen,
something felt in the hollow of the chest.
They do not ask if the road is kind.
......
A tapestry of strength, a vibrant hue ,
On women's Day, our hearts sing true.
From dawn's soft blush to twilight's gleam,
A legacy of courage, a powerful dream.
For every hand that guides , and every voice that rings
For wisdom shared, and joy that springs.
Through trials faced, and battles won,
A spirit shines, like morning sun.
......
The darkness does not knock— it seeps, and it stains.
It craws through your marrow and threads through your veins.
Not a wound to touch, nor a scar to trace.
Just a hollowing force that tried your life and stole your grace.
I hear neighbors laugh, then it twists into your cries.
I know your grief presses heavy— cold and unkind.
I’m helpless in flesh as I draft, for you, my prayers.
Oh Lord— how I would bear your sorrow and spare you these labors.
......
Her fragility was always the fore-front,
branded incapable by the incessant lots,
never did they know the turbulence,
that she passed through once and once more.
A curse set by the age old,
eyes tinted by biased remarks,
her body had scars and bruises,
of fights that were known to the dark.
That heart pumped with a vigor,
those fingers adept with swords,
......
When the world turned, none knew...
As the soil part ways here,
met half way there, none knew...
Hands joined, wrapped in each others embrace,
whispering their sorrows to each other, none knew...
As the fallen flower grew into a magnificent tree,
under the shade of the foliage they stood,
when the leaves rustled, they never knew...
As the streams turned the corner,
as they split- one to fall, one to flow, they never knew...
......