4 Stanzas on Old Things

Deep shadows of history fall
On pavements trodden well in
A white city on bluffs that look
Over such quiet hills. Of

Signs and patience. The cries
Of voices that refuse to be
Silenced by feet tapping down
Corridors we cannot find. Still,

They come and march and
Say what was once said as truth,
As wisdom beyond censure, beyond
Hands that grope, in the dark.

So come. So raise fists to dark
Skies that hold rain that cannot
Fall on songs that are spoken
Aloud…. always
Together.

5 thoughts on “4 Stanzas on Old Things

  1. Sherry Marr January 24, 2017 / 7:13 pm

    Those marching feet will hopefully move us into a better future. But we have a hard row to hoe to get there.

    Like

  2. Magaly Guerrero January 25, 2017 / 12:11 am

    I really like how the poem’s structure reflects the ways in which history is always connected to what follows it. The sudden breaks remind us that today is not only attached to tomorrow, but that yesterday is the roots of tomorrow’s blooms. That makes our steps louder, raises our fists higher and with more purpose, inspires us to hold each other’s hands and shout, “Enough!”

    Like

  3. thotpurge January 25, 2017 / 1:12 am

    …raise fists to dark
    Skies that hold rain that cannot
    Fall on songs that are spoken
    Aloud…. love that!

    Like

  4. Kerry O'Connor January 25, 2017 / 4:25 pm

    Very interesting how you hang a word at the end of a stanza. I also found the final stanza delivered a satisfying punch.

    Like

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