Art Music Poetry #50

Stuber 8

Done on Bald Head Island

November ,2002

Still reeling from my brother’s death

Live Strong

Peripheral sunrise elongates table shadows, initiates morning calm

five days before the trip.   This mixed-race neighborhood

finds curious children stepping toward friendship while parents

remain closed in busy lives with no time for old friends no less

a new batch.  Small dose of warm leads to ping pong, kickball

and lacrosse.  Fifteen Korean kids experience the U.S., try new

sports, speak English to strangers, love nightly contests, yet

bored by Disneyworld.  Orange rays turn yellow, cause

dew-sparkle as a clank of dishwashing jolts early work-day

to life.  This heart, shredded, strewn like superfluous jet fuel,

scatters onto February snow so remote no living thing can

detect the agony caused by having to choose between family

and friends or prime faculty position in a culture that routinely

rejects emotional outsiders and is built on hundreds of rules

that strictly judge behavior in order to instill “maturity” at the

price of spontaneity .  No natural omens, like a darting cardinal

that prefigures any sound move have appeared.  Aspirations change,

fulfillment occurs when newfound silence replaces blabbermouth

stupidity and yard play warms frozen tears as well as crowd cheers

ever did in the days before finding redemption in family and work.

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