"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."

Thursday, March 14, 1991

Like...

Like the lowering arm and red flashing lights
that shift downward to block a car,
in the still of the nebulous night,
at the sound of a toot from afar;

Like the rising, glimmering, ball of fire,
into a misty gray sky,
after the downpour from the mire;
the tears accompanying a cry;

Like the crash of a wave, lathering the shore;
showering over the granules and shells;
rushing backward--then a flush--
all the bank compelled;

Like the painted horses moving up and down;
twirling til' the ride comes to an end;
never wanting to get back on the ground
because sight is not open 'round the bend;

Like the slow rising of fresh-baking dough;
rich morsels donating a lucious aroma,
practically thrusting right out of the stove,
but graduation follows diploma.

March 14, 1991

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