"Accolades For Valor" by Matthew Johnson (1993): "She goes through life, gliding, a benevolent seer/ Stopping constantly to aid those in need, those not even dear/ I, an individual, swept up in the storm/ Of a woman, who, in search of herself, defies the norm/ As I, an outcast, fighting myself, yet daring to believe/ That if I ask her aid and succor (and possibly love) she won’t leave/ Giving her heart, mind and soul to every known cause/ Causing me to look about my selfish malestrom, and in introspection give pause/ For all her words, she won’t write about me, does she fail to perceive/ What the object knows to be true and what make believe—/ Words rarely present, presence much more of one/ Is to wish for more as good as wishing for the sun?/ Energy is precious, as I know well to be true/ And I am curious to know, Lorraine, what I can ask of you/ Names are important, they make us who we are/ Much more important than people give credit, by far/ The masses may cry “Lori!” and let them do so!/ For the numbers who call that cannot understand/ They will never know the Lorraine inside, the one crying to live/ Will be forever frustrated by those whose minds are like a sieve/ There may be those who rob her of her world, let them scratch the skin/ They are as pinpricks to the steel within/ These accolades are not exaggeration, not pretentious/ I Just want you to know that there is at least one who is conscious/ That the world is a better place for the life of a woman named Lorraine."

Monday, April 04, 1994

Alas!









After all the frustration
and the fear,
I am overwhelmed
by what I hear.

Jubilance
radiates through me;
Through my body,
a tingling stream.

So used to words
ultimately hurting
for just being words--
shaded and curving.

To find that
he looks at me so;
What's come over me?
I feel as though

my heart is pumping
joy through my veins.
The feeling--ecstatic;
consuming the pain

For him to think
he has to stretch
to be on my level;
to me impress?

when I'm in love with him
for his genius
and have such faith
in his success;

To find that
he feels as though,
just to converse with me,
he must grow?

Now in a way
I'm dependent on him.
He's the foundation
of my every whim.

Alas! This is what
love's all about.
It took so damn long
to figure it out.

April 4, 1994

posted by Lorraine Courigan at 10:20 AM

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