Winters

I

The eyes stare out of gray sockets
at those who pass by, but those
who dare to look at the needy ones
at those who look up in desperation
mumbling in hushed tones
words that once had meaning,
words that once had force;
they look away from the needy ones
they try to be distracted by some distant object
they pretend to notice something in the sky.

"Need help-- Hungry" reads the sign
held by the needy one on the corner of
Main and 24th street. His name is Ernest
and for most his life he believes that
he has done the best that he could do.
He dreams most of his days away
about this and that
about the time that he was in the Navy,
the feeling of
how the wind rifled through his chestnut hair
how a day's work won him a day's wages
how everything was different, exciting, new.

Ernest waits near the bus stop.
When the people get off the bus some of them
give him money. He notices that the people
who give him a dollar or two
are often the men, roughly his own age
and maybe they were in the service too.
He is careful not to wait too
close to the bus stop because they might make
him move.

II

Laura moves down 24th street looking for
Meridian Boulevard. She knows that this is
her last chance or maybe just one of her last
chances. If she does not get this job she will
not be able to send money back to her aunt.
We all live under the clouds
We all lie in the grave
We all did whatever was allowed
We all were strong and brave.
She did not know if that was a song that
perhaps she heard on the radio or in
church maybe.
Suddenly a chill settled on her skin
and she pulled her brown sweater closer
down from her shoulders. She worried about
reaching the interview on time.
She wondered why she had felt so moved
to give the bum on the street half her money,
now she might not have enough to lunch.
But he looked so sad sitting there,
and not to have any legs!
Laura shuddered involuntarily
thinking for a moment what life would be like
for her (and for her aunt) if she had no legs.

The wind picked up as the dark-haired girl
walked along the east sidewalk of Meridan
Boulevard. A soft blue shade took to the sky
in the waning hours of light. The fact that
this was even day to begin with had to be guessed at
in Manhatten. A slate gray bank of clouds
surrounded the island kingdom swallowing
the twin towers like a pair of hungry white giants.

III

We stand away from the crowds
We choose not to be slaves
We fight from ships run aground
We fight for whatever is left to save.
Ernest was back on the deck of the U.S.S. Nimitz
humming a happy tune to himself.
Where his left leg would have come down from
his hip began to itch,
and he scratched at it absently.
The lower clouds on the horizon began to part
to let in the even blacker onset of night.

IV

We wonder where the world went when we
Wake and see the blanket of snow that has
enveloped the city. Somewhere in the city
a phone rings.  This will be news that she did
not want to hear-- news that will change her
life forever. And snuggled under the blanket
the streets of downtown Denver wait
patiently for spring.

The slowness of the season pulls at you
making you want to lie down and sleep.
But there is a voice deep inside that you
can hear plainly, but hardly ever heed
telling you to worry. We seem
to think that if we pause for just a moment
that it will all come rushing back to us:
The old tax bills are due
The credit card debt is piling up
The dog needs to go to the vet
The children need to be picked up from school
The car will not start.
We are running before a wave that is always
cresting just right above,
And we are afraid. We know that if
we just hurry we can make it through;
that we can make it if
we just hurry.

And it will happen sooner than you
realize
thoughts will fall into your mind
One-part truth and two parts lies,
like words forced into rhyme by
Pharisees and scribes
running out of time.
Those wise ones pray aloud
in the marketplace,
they pray
so loud that the villagers
at the far end of the street
can hear:
They say that the end is coming
They say that the Lord will come
with His legions of angels and
avenge the misdeeds done to
the children of Israel,
They say that the end is near,
They read aloud from the prayer
scrolls folded one by one
into their robes.
Some of us want to believe them,
believe that they can play nice;
We want to believe that we can
do
nothing
That we are helpless against all we fear.
But if we make it out to the other side
we can come to a healthy hate of our own
doubts
our own weakness
then we can celebrate the solstice
in fire and ice.

1992