The Vine

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

I Love Homework In My School

To the creek and ‘neath the Hawthorne wood
I laid to bed upon the ground
But woke much sooner than I should
To the scritchy-scratchy sound
Of Thomas’s quill pen writing it down
True Thomas I said, give ME a poem!
But bring me safely back to home
For I care not to spend six years and one
In the faery realms as you have done
A punctuated flourish - then he looked
Up from that dog-eared ink-stained book
And pierced me with his eyes so blue
That I knew then what I must to do
We picked stalks of the wild ragweed
To use that night as a faery steed
With a an affirmation to my aspiration
I inhaled a breath of inspiration
And let out such a powerful sneeze
That it launched us both into the breeze
It’s a different journey than mine we’ll take
He said, a different poem that you will make
Concerned by his frown
I dared to look down
And gasped for fear that I might drown
In the mighty flooding river of oil
That flowed to every coastline spoiled
By that unhealthy thirst for the unmet need
Exploited to profit by corporate greed
But with no excuses or confessions said
He pointed ahead and ahead we sped
Towards the fiery river of hate I spied
That burns every soldier, civilian and child
And war-torn women cursed and cried
Widows on this bank, mothers on the other side
Next a river of ice did chill our bones
T’is frost of apathy, where nothing is done
And drugs and numbness still our breath
So to make us will a living death
Thomas, tell me that it is not true
Else tell me where to go and what to do
From whence do these rivers so foul spring
What healing or atonement can I bring?
Thomas and a whole faery host
Then took me to the place I fear most
A giant chasm between continents three
Living beings, humans and faery
With three gods pushing them further apart
This broken place reflects in every heart
They’re your gods not ours said the faeries and flew
I was left in silence with Thomas True
He flew me home, put me to bed
And maybe it was he that said
Courage, truth, love and embraces
May yet heal the heart and these three places
And staunch the rivers that divide the races
Call your gods home and give them new work
To mend the rifts that threaten earth
When I awoke his plumed pen was at my side
Proof of the dream and that Thomas never lied.


Post a Comment

<< Home