End of November, Start of December

End of November, Start of December

My wife said I should write a poem

my wife said I should write a poem
with the new pen she gave me
for my birthday and retirement
which fall, officially, on the same date

a sudden, premature birth
induced by prayer and fasting
because the very next day was
the beginning of a new cycle of history

a lady with tired legs
sat down on a bus
and that was all it took
to jumpstart a revolution in thinking

and a deliverance from a dark place
that confined the spirit –
to an unfamiliar but
welcoming new reality, at last.

became, reconfigured:

my wife said I should write a poem
a sudden, premature birth
a lady with tired legs
and a deliverance from a dark place –

with this new pen she gave me
induced by prayer and fasting
sat down on a bus
that confined the spirit –

for my birthday and retirement
because the very next day was
and that was all it took
to an unfamiliar but –

which fall, officially, on the same date
the beginning of a new cycle of history
to jumpstart a revolution in thinking
welcoming new reality, at last.

November 24, 2013

Freedom Day
(channeling Rosa Parks on the 58th anniversary of her arrest)

the space where I used to live
no longer has existence for me –
no meaning, good or ill –
an emptiness that is shrinking

into nothingness in immeasurable
segments: weekly, daily, minute-by-minute.
The physical place it occupies
still stands, and people there still breathe

and live, and work, and plot,
and love – but all of that escapes
the gravity of my present reality;
stands outside the new world I configure

for the future, which beckons me,
and even for the past, which still aches
for vindication. Take two aspirin
for that silly pain. A deep breath. Slowly.

December 1, 2013

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Author: Raymond Maxwell

https://raymmaxx.wordpress.com/ Librarian and archivist-in-training, retired foreign service officer and former naval officer.

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