This is a deeply visional poem Sue. I cant help feelig you have seen this in
your minds eye."The billows of storm
> and lung are still. Their trade is bone." now that is so brilliant.
Somehow the reference at the end to "gray" and the Southern derivationof
yourself made me think of the Confederate dead.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Sue Scalf" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Sunday, February 03, 2002 4:07 PM
Subject: for your consideration: Processional in Gray
> Processional in Gray
>
> On the banks of the river of Time the sad procession of
> human generations is marching slowly to
> the grave. . . Bertrand Russell
>
>
> Barely dawn, and down
> by the river they are shuffling,
> leaving no footprints.
>
> They move like the fog that winds
> between trees and slips through inlets
> touching moss and cypress stump.
>
> They are whispering as they walk, talking
> to each other, their voices weightless
> as a communion wafer on the tongue.
>
> Above their heads, a bird's bright song
> and a limb silvered by sun, the river
> a dazzle of light, a mirror of sky
>
> broken and alive. Cascades
> of laughter in small waves lapping,
> our voices from afar call, "Remember!"
>
> But the walkers do not hear.
> Nothing we say will matter.
> Nothing we do. Their eyes are set
>
> toward the grave, toward the deep earth,
> grains of stone. The billows of storm
> and lung are still. Their trade is bone.
>
> In gray shadows they are walking,
> complete and whole,
> done with remembering.
>
> Sue Scalf
> http://www.members.aol.com/poetscalf
|