Hi Sue,
I think I prefer the leaner, hungrier version of this...
I guess the introduction of the child at the end may be saying something
extra... but in a limiting way. I sense the original, if read carefully,
includes enough clues for explusion/containment/whatever. With the first
version there was more of an openness for the reader to interpret the
poem...
Bob
>From: Sue Scalf <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Spirits rewritten
>Date: Sat, 21 Jun 2003 06:06:27 EDT
>
>Old Sins
>
>
>Wearing tattered shrouds,
>they slide into the graveyard of dreams.
>Grass moves where they move,
>and Spanish moss sways.
>You can't outlive us, they say.
>We never die. And from the dark loam
>of memory they rise with false faces
>and painted smiles. I know them well,
>comrades once, friends.
>
>Now, old sins whistle through empty rooms,
>smell of decay. Where little is left--a chair,
>a candle stub-- they remain, elemental as pain,
>gently make the rockers squeak upon the porch
>or move the swing with its rusty chains.
>With winter's first rain, they are still there,
>settled with an aching cold that chills the veins.
>When spring sends mist of green upon the hills
>and doves call from the rafters, they sit still,
>but whisper in shadowed voices like water falls.
>
>Only a child's laughter will break their spell
>or happiness that leaps into song. . . old ones
>like "Sweet, sweet Jesus" and "I'm Coming Home."
>
>Sue Scalf
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