Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Price of Progress
The old fireplace and chimney look massive and well-built. What ever happened to the home they provided with warmth? Did it crumble? Burn? Why didn't the owners rebuild? Sad.
Here's a poem, written by my brother, Larry - about forty years ago - it could be the lament of a rejected lover or an old abandoned homesite.
Gold of the Sea
I stand naked close to you,
But you've forgotten time since lost.
I ask you, "Won't you touch me?"
With a laugh, you tear open my chest,
wrench out my heart,
and, drain my blood into a crystal cup;
then drink it.
Shalom Y'all, Twyla