"A Tribute To Nat Lipstadt"

Found myself leafing through
A luscious garden of poems,
Found some  lines worth dwelling on...
Read of a man
Who writes effortlessly
Who gives himself away, too often,
Too obvious, sometimes...
While he teaches us to write
About daily motions, daily commotions...
We learn these wise words from this man:
I quote...
"write about what we know best...
"we, all feel
we, all believe in
the primacy,
the rightness of I.
but then, one must begin to observe others..."

This man writes about simplicity...
Simple thoughts. simple truths...
"No complexity nor trickery employed..."

He reads all about sadness, tragedy,
All kinds of pain, depression,
Every emotion captured in his mind...
And so he tells us---
"Let's write of joy,
celebrate reunification, singularity,
of our place,
our happy collision,
our universal location.
For where you are,
I exist,
no where else."

When we run out of things to write,
He is always around to remind us- - -

"I lifted up my eyes to the mountains—
From where will my poetry come from?

From men.
From women.
From you-reminding me,
It is where it is, not where you are...

It is here in the unread tragedies,
The wails so plain, repetitive,
The screams that never cease, the
Poems, yours, that deserve ten thousand likes,
But die ignored, despite, my best efforts."

"Let the diet begin,
no more food for thought,
no more dreams

wrought and recorded,
permit the ambient calm
of the still of the night
that engulfs,
to harmonize with the flatline
dreamless sleep that the
mind monitor machine
etchingly, quietly records..."


He appeases our restlessness,
Through these golden thoughts from him- - -

"Place your ****** hands upon thy chest.
Let them melt thru and come to rest,
Inside, the battle ongoing, under thy breast.
Watch, eyes open, knowing, fearful.
Swiftly, with no hesitation, from within,
Rip open your body, exhaling the best,
And the worst of what you got.
nobody knows the silences
kept in my treasure
box."


We can find ourselves in his poems,
If only we read on and on,
Let us find the time
To skim through his words,
And read between the lines:

"Some never find true love.
Some never experience
reckless abandon.
Some of us are
recklessly abandoned,
and never forget,
and never forgive."

"Most of us remain
unpublished, undiscovered,
unremarked, blanketed,
cloaked in bills to pay;

Living a triumvirate of
heart ache, loneliness, worry,
our normal table fare
consists
of hand to hand
into the mouth
combat MRE's,
we engage,
to survive,
just stay alive."

And, he tells us further, for our own sake:

"Be forever young n
humble;
Feel ancient and royal;
Ride tall in the saddle;
Do something nifty;
Take someone's hand unexpectedly.
Drive home in the slow lane;
Do the minimus;
Do the maximus;
Leave a book on a park bench;
Use pen n paper, write a letter;
Take a chance, make people laugh;
Barrel into contention;
Show mercy to the confused,
Show anger to the
abusers.
Bless a child with both hands;
Grasp your soul, thrown it down,
And raise a child to the sky
Straight up,
A continuum, you and they,
A ladder to heaven..."


To this great man, we would
like to say:

"You sir, are an electrician
of words, a verbal technocrat,
Plumber of the depths where
Few fear to tread, explorer of the head,
Restorer of human paintings unmatched,
Without your ilk,
this world would be unbearable,
Your heart's warming silk
Comforts bodies and souls,
Speaking from experience personal."

He has his eyes, his ears open,
Ever-compassionate,
Ready to help,
When we are like a river run dry,
When there is not a strand of hope
Left in our bodies...
Let us read his poetry,
It is a kind of music that...

"arrests and rests me,
miracle each time
I walk on its waters..."

So, let us go on and on,
Never get tired of
Picking up bits and pieces
Of these
Precious  poem crumbs
We gather all times
From his garden so green...
We bask in its paths
Brimming with pearls of wisdom,
Of unheard truths, from him,
We learned first times,
R-e-v-e-r-b-e-r-a-t-e-s
Loudly, in our ears,
In our hearts,
In our minds,
These golden Nat-ty poem crumbs.

(January 29, 2014  5:02 PM)

~~~~~

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan