07 October 2009

I Celebrate

I celebrate the rising of
the sun, I salute you,
yes, as we pass each other on
the street,

the divine in your eyes, in the
slouch of your hat, your hands,
stabbed into your pockets
so

I sing of the generations before
and after us, crops raised and
crops failed, the fresh-mixed cement
and the mortar crumbling to dust

of buildings with windows bricked over
to keep out the light, as we two
ride the rails, watching the passing
scenery, my country tis

as they serve us neatly plated breakfast
our hands break their hold

soybeans now, and more soybeans, then
corn, and more corn, far west of
that coast where we
first stepped down to touch earth

now we head for the mountains

I sing of children sleeping in safety
as the sun drops from sight, of
hope ever dawning in the heart, of
forever-freedom from want and fear

I sing and celebrate you, who
held my hand as the tape played
over and again, those oft-voiced
melodies, the old sweet songs, evermore

2 comments:

L.L. Barkat said...

Reminds me of Whitman. :)

I liked this especially...

"as they serve us neatly plated breakfast
our hands break their hold"

MaryAnn McCarra-Fitzpatrick said...

Thank you for taking the time to comment...I appreciate it!!

MaryAnn