The angels speak amongst themselves concerning the humans scuttling among the tumbled boulders near the first cascade beyond the cirque...
Or perhaps it is humans who speak among themselves concerning the crickets they keep in bamboo cages...
They too have touched us
in this matching of their love,
in this last descent.
It is here we meet
with them most surely,
in loving the tiny ones
with their rapid hearts
and small secret thoughts
who leave us so easily
and so soon.
November 28, 2009 7:38 AM
This offering is reprised entire from its first posting on May 9, 2011. Please check out this Ted Talk. It is compelling and deeply, deeply true.
Some years ago my poetry took on a mythic flavor and I became a character in my own poems, a mage, "the man of the Northern Wall". This apellation is not completely fictional. My middle name is Noordwal, a Dutch term for north wall, though in current Dutch it mainly means north bank as in riverbank. I was told that an ancestor, a Portugese Jew escaping the Inquisition, settled in a small Dutch town and took this name from where he settled, near the north wall of the town. I have thought for a long time that -wal meant wall, think my mother told me that. A linguist might say that my usage is no longer common, is an older usage, but then the Inquisition happened in Portugal a few centuries ago, right around the time the Moors lost control of the Iberian Peninsula and the Jews lost the modest protection given them by Islam. Now I write as this mage, my poetry persona.