that river road to Memphis


Again the baby crocuses
peek from the clay.
Blue as those starfish Mary
Ravlin molded, bright as seahorses.

The cottonwoods lean by the river,
hearkening to milder
time.  Spring child, your
mother flows to Memphis, where

one milky King came to his end
willing to walk that road –
real prophecy, he said.
Against our triple-headed fiend

(entrenchรจd greed, malice & war)
to shape his earthy will
to one kiln-fired good Will
& forge a worldwide fellowship – soar,

mighty Martin, to that eagle’s lair!
Let your green trumpet sound
until a safety net is bound
with international orange there –

strong as titanic span & pillar
soft as a catenary
wing   shadowing gray
Ocean   in the sky’s wide azure

where twin doves from Mexico
open their double doors
hid among cedars
on a high hill   where monarchs go


so blinding sunshine grant us   second
sight   when we gaze upward
& behold   lenticular cloud
of mauve & rose   afloat   profound

over the wheeling ground   & fold
ourselves into that solid air
relinquish pride & fear
for spring’s renewal   as of old

your web of mutuality
yokes unknown soldiers trudging
to the Somme   frauds pledging
sacrifice   for unreality

just as they had in Vietnam
your solitary   freedom
walk   into Jerusalem
tattooed with beatific stigma   I am

coming like a thief, he said
so keep awake   the day
draws nigh   one April   Day
of Jubilee   when   rising from the dead

we’ll be that crocus   Kingdom Come
a long time coming   freedom
train   of joy & wisdom
supernatural glee   from heaven   home

to Earth   again   soul liberty
as promised in the whisper-
cave   of Galilee   your
clear light   ever-afloat   Eternity


No comments: