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 Jul 2012 Valora Brave
AS
children
 Jul 2012 Valora Brave
AS
How do you explain

to your children that the

horrors of the world are real?

How will I tell my son, We

found a place you can call home but

your bus might not make it to school.

Do not look too Jewish in this part of town

Do not play in the train station

Do not get used

to the weight

of a machine gun.

Or look my

daughter in the eye and say, someday

you might say “no” and someone stronger than you might

not listen

You will not tell me

Know that this happens a lot

Know that your wrists pinned against a

backboard will

echo in the way you move your hands

for as long as you let it

But

human hands aren’t as heavy as metal shackles

And I’m so sorry

but I won’t be able to

take the weight for you

You’ll wake up in the morning

That I can promise you

You’ll wake up

and your lungs will fill with air

whether you tell them to or not.

One day

I will hold someone

small, with my face

and they’ll cry and I’ll say,

*I know.

I know you’re tied with little yarn strings to the last life

I know it hurts to be here and

(honestly)

you’re never going back

But

the older you get the less you’ll remember

what it was like

before you had a body

when you were made of ash and infinite light

You’ll convince yourself you live here and

that your hands are you,

But remember that once you were boundless

Inside my body, without yours.
I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine
A poem falls short; I'd like, instead
to draw a single line from me to you
and watch it curl into a word
so beautiful it's still unsaid –
or press paper to the window pane
so that the day might saturate
a note that brightly warms your hands,
spills birdsong from imagined trees
and buzzes like fat bumblebees,
but I am bound by language, love; I can't.
I

Now the rain hammered down And the waters did rise

And the drunk at the Inn Looked his wife in the eyes

Then he looked at his boots Of soft leather so new

and he saw her strong back Then he chose what to do



"The river is deep and it's running in spate

I'll not get a dousing and I'll not be late

So you'll take me across woman just you alone

Or by God you will suffer when we both get home"


You're a cold-hearted ******* without any charm

You've broken my heart like you once broke my arm

But I'll carry you out through the deep and the flood

Thought the water is almost as cold as your blood


So they walked to the banks of the river so fast

And he clung to her shoulders a man foul and vast

She strode forward with dignity into the flow

Stopped sharp took a breath singing as she let go


"You're cold-hearted ******* your drunk breath on my neck

You've beaten me down to grey broken wreck

Now I'm stood in the river and I need a rest

So I'll stand here a while with both feet on your chest"


So he struggled a little and then he was still

While she sang with new freedom enjoying the thrill

She knows if the magistrate says she must swing

She will still feel the freedom and still she will sing


"You're a cold -hearted ******* without any charm

but I'll wear a smile now I've done you such harm

now you're dead in the river amongst the dark stones

and the trout and the weeds dance amongst your cold bones"
The morning finds the young lasses milking
And the young lads in the fields cutting
Rams, ewes, and lambs eat and grow fat.
The hens lay eggs while the roosters are strutting.

The sun rises up for his daily walk,
Drawing the day across the sky.
He takes his daylight with him to another place
Because the moon's time is nigh.

Evening falls across the heather
And the stars come out to dance.
The faerie folk come to life
And fill the night with their lyrical chants.

The mists on the moors swirl and caper about,
Taking rock and tree to embrace.
The faerie folk make merry and dance about
'Neath the silver of the moon's face.


They dance to music as old as time,
Melodies and rhythms from long ago.
Verses sung in ages long past,
Songs only faerie folk know.


They sing and dance under the moon and stars,
As long as the night covers them about.
But the moon and the faerie folk must go their ways
For 'tis time for the sun to come out.
Copyright, 2011 William M. Winegar
you bare your heart
you share your soul
you write all day
and it takes its toll
you cant withstand
you cant let go

all your dreams start to die
you want to leave
but only cry
its sad to say
but i cannot lie

youve made you bed
now go to sleep
give up your dreams
but do not weep

although its harsh
you must agree its fair
nothings left but an emty stare

I must warn you
do not cry

go to sleep, its time to die
truth comes in the gaze of eye and ear
and is released in ways that we find best
in simple language nothing can be expressed
but in a form and fashion that is dear
to ordinary hearts now we adhere
in principle and practice to the test
of frailty in all that is confessed
by guardians who will not succumb to fear
duty requires action as well as speech
from those told off to watch the border wall
for signs of trouble coming with the spring
but courage makes us all extend our reach
makes us imagine ourselves ten feet tall
and gives our hearts and voices cause to sing

— The End —