"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."

Friday, October 09, 1992

Clouds Downstream














It used to be I would never ask why.
Now, I don't want to hear.
It feels repeated every time;
every week of each month of each year.

The same words
already learned;
words of wisdom
but kind of a prison;

Trapped within what's said and done;
not ignoring but wanting to run.

Viewing their cautions as bars,
I want my own boat and oars.

Set on the banks, in front of the current,
I'm prepared with the skills I've learned.
Breeze subtly guiding my way;
not strong enough to take all away;

Then, a wink from a cloud, exhibiting light,
and all I can do is keep it in mind.
Here, a weather-bred warning thy calling,
while against these odds I'm bearly crawling.

I see the storm ahead
at least its probability...
but I continue.

I wonder if I have the strength;
the ability...
but I continue.

I move off of the safe ground to the rocky stream;
imagining it better if fought as a team,
yet I ready myself for the waves
and search for my own road to pave.

November 9, 1992

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