Marching Home

 

I’m in the South now

For a time,

Which is fine

I’m from here

I like it fine

It’s coastal Carolina’s version

Of the winter

The thicker blood in me has a chance

To thin gradually

While I’m here (fifties and sixties)

 

I just heard a smart person from Mississippi say

That Mississippi is known for

Writers and racism

I suppose that’s sad but true

Except for the writers part

I’m here for chores

House care, care for the dog

Old with bright eyes

Maybe we’d take a good picture

Near each other

 

Racism is a special kind of hate

The lack of seeing people for the people

It’s not forest for trees

It’s willing blindness

Not to look at bark or touch it

Smell the air that carries life

Hear the joy of birdsong

 

Taking paint away from canvas

Flame away from fire

Food from off the stove

Prejudice owns nothing

But tries a tyranny on everything

Until its own atoms fail

For lack of cohesion

And entropy claims all

For lack of reinforcement

No new energy, at last

 

Can we wait for an empty fire to burn off?

It’s not Centralia (up north)

It’s vapid, mean,

And tries to tear apart what is

Without substance (unlike the fire

that rages underground, which has it)

The world, notwithstanding

So much bigger

Owning all shapes and sizes

Colors to coordinate or glare against

And isn’t that just wonderful?

 

Join the world

Take the cosmos

You can ride the whirlwind as a miracle

And wake up to the brilliance on another side

 

So far, so good, my hours in the South

I hope you’ll join me

 

C L Couch

 

 

By Zp, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1897898

 

Updates from https://www.offthebeatenshelf.com/blog/

Off the Beaten Shelf Book Blog – Off the Beaten Shelf

In the 02/16/2019 edition: