Oct. 14, 2004 - 18:30 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Too young to cry

A bit overwhelmed by the world tonight. The absolute insanity of the present political circus -- circus as in Caesar's time I guess. If it were up to me I would say, "None of the above," "Go back and bring us some true statesmen."

I received a book of poetry today from a dear friend back east. Poetry written by high school kids where she works.

Their poetry to me seems to be more adult than much of the present day philosophy expressed by the so called grown ups. The statement of the reality of their lives and their determination to make the best of it. Their ever seeking to love and be loved. Their poetry,even though their lives are tainted by the addiction to drugs by others shows that they are surmounting their troubles. Their dealing with teen pregnancy --- being battered and such dark things as that. And their deep, deep thoughts about so many things would amaze so many of the ivory tower people.

These young persons I think can make our civilization become much better than ever before, if we just give them a chance.

Their poetry is not perfect of course, nor should it be at their age. BUT the beating heart of their feelings all too plainly shows the depths of their characters and their poetry.

Of course maybe I am a bit prejudiced. Robert Louis Stevenson's, "Childs Garden Of Verses," still plucks the threads of my heart -- first read to me I guess about 1925 and still entrances me, Poe's weird poetry was read when I was still in elementary school. In Junior High the English classes that featured poetry in the semester were joyful times for me.

I think maybe everybody is a poet in their own way, (except for the Scrooge types) just not writing it out in words on paper, often showing poetry in the way they live and deal with other folk. What could be more poetic than a Mother caring for an ailing child to the very best of her ability and encompassing her child with total love. Or that same Mother at play and moments of love with that same child when recovered. Father's whose poetic lives show their dedication to family, their travails at work - put aside for family love after they get home at night. The fun times he gives to his kids while enjoying them to the maximum capacity of his heart. The poetry of two old marrieds, leaning on each other as they walk along, being there for each other. An older mate doing everything possible for one who is ailing or disabled, done without a word said nor praise expected -- just done out of love. There is poetry in motion for many of us who are not fumble footed. Maya Angelou who wrote a poem about a woman who was poetry in motion.

"Phenomenal Woman"

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size

But when I start to tell them,

They think I'm telling lies.

I say,

Its in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

A poem of three verses, which describes the motion poetry of an an awsome woman, accurate enough to actually see her moving down the street with admiring glances from everyone following her progress as music sounds in their own souls.

So, these young high school people are living the life dealt out to them and making the very best of it any way they can, and making poetry of their lives and letting others know in that book. I have to say that some tears did fall when I read the book tonight, but those kids, I know they shouldn't be in the position of being Too Young To Cry . . . . . . . . .

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