Poetry

GESTATION

by Walter Boswell
02/06/19
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Gestation

It is sorrows before         and sorries afterward,

                and no word of change ever in between.

Who are we to know the gravity of the situation –

how a few seconds act can alter the future of a life?

Why give you me pretty speeches, which are roughly written;

why give you me sanctions without the will to enforce them?

                Lend me some tech shop that I might

                                manufacture this glorious high chair!

Give the mind pause from articulating these evils of the day;

allow me some freedom and goodness to shelter within myself.

                When my mind stops working against me,

                                and begins to think alongside,

I will deliver from this adulterated ore

                                the purity of indomitable truth.

                Then I shall start again believing in the goodness of God.

                For what good before was this God, this light of heaven,

                                who keeps me  afterward a servant in the dark?

Race Day

Ringing in the silence of horns …

                                without a new year.

                They’re off:

a grand ‘mare of the races

                travelling both directions at once;

                pick whichever way marked,

                         whoever the rider started,

                review only death in the winner’s circle.

Know now what’s best not to know,

                should any eve to any grand holiday

                                ever bring harmony or

                integration to these scattered bones –

                                                forced up and running

                from where you ground me: sport-thrown,

                                                shaken and stirred,

                                deserted and drunk,         forever longing

                                                with a spirit dry.

Dr. Walter Boswell

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