Dearest Mother,
Tonight, the wind howls an icy blast.
At The Market Place
------------------------
Early one morning, I wandered, as is my way, through the small,
but vibrant market place, that spills its wares onto the street,
and into every possible corner, until I reached the isle,
that brims, and overflows, with blooms, in a blessed hail of colors and perfumes.
As I strolled on, I saw a large shining silver bucket, filled with burning red beauty.
Before I could know what I was doing, I thrust one bare foot, and then the other,
into the burning vision. Cooling water instantly soothed,
the torn, filthy skin of my feet, and as well,
placed a healing balm over my tired, unto death, heart.
How could I defile, such loveliness?
But, you see, it was my hunger of loveliness,
that drove me to this crazy act.
Of course, my behavior was seen as that of a madman.
And so, I was kicked and cursed, and hunted away.
But, even as I ran from the curses, the raised boot, and fists, I felt rapture.
Yes, rapture. You see mother, for the first time........ I felt,
the spark of life, and for the first time, in what seems like forever,
I felt a warmth, or perhaps it was more a love, that I can at last trust.
(To be continued)
 |
| 'A Burning Warmth' by Trish |
Crumpled paper bags scatter and scamper along gutters,
newspapers rip and tear across memories, as pages of print,
flutter this way and that; some cling to bushes, catch like crafty hands at the legs of a passer by, or plaster their rampage of words, across closed and shuttered windows, across the windscreen of a passing car, while other pages tear and race on with empty urgency, into darkness.
This bitter winter wind, threatens all with its violence, as it greedily, snatches and sucks, then blasts forth the flames of the fire,
we burn in the drums, to keep our shivering bodies warm.
But, even though the wind, can still cut me, as the sharpest knife, there is now,
a warmth within me, that neither, wind, nor anything, nor anyone, can touch or take from me. How has this come about? Let me tell you.But, even though the wind, can still cut me, as the sharpest knife, there is now,
At The Market Place
------------------------
Early one morning, I wandered, as is my way, through the small,
but vibrant market place, that spills its wares onto the street,
and into every possible corner, until I reached the isle,
that brims, and overflows, with blooms, in a blessed hail of colors and perfumes.
As I strolled on, I saw a large shining silver bucket, filled with burning red beauty.
Before I could know what I was doing, I thrust one bare foot, and then the other,
into the burning vision. Cooling water instantly soothed,
the torn, filthy skin of my feet, and as well,
placed a healing balm over my tired, unto death, heart.
How could I defile, such loveliness?
But, you see, it was my hunger of loveliness,
that drove me to this crazy act.
Of course, my behavior was seen as that of a madman.
And so, I was kicked and cursed, and hunted away.
But, even as I ran from the curses, the raised boot, and fists, I felt rapture.
Yes, rapture. You see mother, for the first time........ I felt,
the spark of life, and for the first time, in what seems like forever,
I felt a warmth, or perhaps it was more a love, that I can at last trust.
(To be continued)
Tushie (1994)
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