Saturday, September 24, 2016

I hope my soul can still stand tall

continuity and change

near 50 years go by,
and I both remember each year coming and going,
and I haven’t a clue that so much time has carried me with it
down the years around the sun,
many of us get together to honor 
a group of individuals 2 years my senior,
and I am struck by continuity:
how Mark still tilts at windmills,
can’t tally up much success,
and refuses to disengage from the good fight,
many I know and love are just as warm and giving as ever:
true to self, to heart, to being real,
to fighting the good fight,
however that struggle for rightness
can manifest in each of our lives,

Bob looks at me and exclaims that I, too, am shorter,
2-3 inches for each of us,
hair grays, falls out, torso can thicken,
children abound, and grandchildren,
bundles of hope love sends out to waken the world into caring,

the band’s music calls us back to the Fifties and Sixties,
our hearts move more exuberantly than our bodies,
how important it is to be real,
and to stay real over the long decades
that seem to fly by,
my body may be shorter,
but I hope my soul can still stand tall.

Big Funk, late Sixties, Durham, NC

by Henry H. Walker
September 23, ‘16

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