Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Questions
Remember this tale about which you'll hear
of fighting Jews who fell without fear,
who chose to die as men and not as cattle,
but fate had determined that they first do battle
with the Hun at whom they did courageously fling
all of the might of young David's sling.
Their foe, a Goliath, of thousands' times size
from whom they refused to submit to the lies:
that they were weak and unworthy, unable to rise,
though blinded by hate, they aimed straight for his eyes.
Never before had there been seen such daring
from young women and men all of whom caring
for the dignity of those for whom they fought,
such were the lessons that history had taught ...
that the Jew stood alone, friendless, against foe,
counting his days, tormented by woe.
His task ... to prove that though troubled by pain,
the courage of Masada had not been in vain.
For three months, the struggle did not cease,
neither of its sides desiring peace.
For that meant 'surrender', an unthinkable word,
from the sewers of Warsaw could there still be heard:
the cries, the anguish, the torture within
ferreting out their captives the Nazis whose grin
was evidence they had been acting with glee
when stifling the attempt of people to be free.
Cords of 'log-bodies', stacked just the same,
secular and religious none to blame.
For there was NO difference before the Hun,
the Jews for him were decidedly ONE!
Whether armed or with prayer, they met their end,
futile struggle, Kiddush HaShem.
Our duty to those whose fate we survived
is in working to keep their memory alive.
I ask ... why a people whose destiny has been
to enlighten a world through darkness and din,
whose lives are as many as they have been few,
why so despised has been the Jew?
For what 'good' reason is he chosen to die?
Why gone unnoticed the tear in his eye?
Has he not suffered so while the world stands by,
Why have we not ever heeded his cry?
Is there really a difference that makes him seem strange,
as if the same blood did not course through his veins?
Does he not laugh, cry, and feel just as you?
How threatens he when he numbers so few?
Threatened with death should he adhere to his ways,
terrorized by chimneys above which rose haze,
searchingly hopeful ... in whose starry gaze
are reflected the faggots whose fires roar ablaze.
Why did none act to stop it once knowrn?
Enough indifference haven't we sown?
Praying to the heavens as they did every day,
that soon they'd see planes flying their way,
so bombardment, please god, should take us
ere the chambers would
but, the Allies denied they could destroy the rails
leading straight into Hell,
from which precious few reemerged to tell
of the horrors awaiting them, so hard to believe,
that neither kindness nor life did the arrivals receive.
The children, too, thrust into the pit,
enraged blood lust, into its infernal fit
that even the babes whose potential so great
should have felt the steel of this magnificent hate,
whose cries were heard, but listened to none,
whose heads fell limp with the snap of a gun,
whose parents, god forbid! they saw as naked as they,
for it was like this ...that they suffered that day.
There are those who challenge what we have to say,
"Does such a retelling remains relevent today?"
"That, somehow, It's past, gone. Let it be!"
"Why do you make us suffer to see:
the killings, the children, the mountains of bone,
the chambers transformed so many to stone!
who dropped like logs when the doors were thrown wide,
there simply had been ... no place to hide,
mothers whose skirts offered refuge at least
little ones uncovered ...thrown into the fiery feast.
"Of what use" it was queried,
"could they possibly be"
in a stench wherein no one was happy or free?"
Ne'er a glimmer of hope would the murderers give
to those whose sole wish ... was only to live.
Mothers from children, families asunder,
might others have withstood this fury and thunder?
Slave labor was needed to further the 'cause',
to build V-2 rockets, to sharpen the claws.
For such, 'noble' men, doctors by fame
were employed to brutalize, murder, and maim
so that 'Science' could learn when life was so cheap,
discarded mankind onto the heap.
'Great' governments had met in order to be
as pious as possible, but deaf to the plea ...
of the wandering Jew whose torment to see
how unwelcome he waS in the 'Land of the Free'.
The ship onto which so many had stormed
could not find refuge for opinion had formed
that the Jew was expendable, a nuisance, a thorn
upon whom fate had abandoned its contemptuous scorn.
They made it to America these "tired and poor"
to discover Liberty's spark shone little more
that, for them, there was not room enough to remain,
what hopes they had cherished were all now in vain!
Dejectedly they limped back to the place
which had expelled them at first for the same lack of space.
Stripped naked and paraded for the world to see
Remember this tale about which you'll hear
of fighting Jews who fell without fear,
who chose to die as men and not as cattle,
but fate had determined that they first do battle
with the Hun at whom they did courageously fling
all of the might of young David's sling.
Their foe, a Goliath, of thousands' times size
from whom they refused to submit to the lies:
that they were weak and unworthy, unable to rise,
though blinded by hate, they aimed straight for his eyes.
Never before had there been seen such daring
from young women and men all of whom caring
for the dignity of those for whom they fought,
such were the lessons that history had taught ...
that the Jew stood alone, friendless, against foe,
counting his days, tormented by woe.
His task ... to prove that though troubled by pain,
the courage of Masada had not been in vain.
For three months, the struggle did not cease,
neither of its sides desiring peace.
For that meant 'surrender', an unthinkable word,
from the sewers of Warsaw could there still be heard:
the cries, the anguish, the torture within
ferreting out their captives the Nazis whose grin
was evidence they had been acting with glee
when stifling the attempt of people to be free.
Cords of 'log-bodies', stacked just the same,
secular and religious none to blame.
For there was NO difference before the Hun,
the Jews for him were decidedly ONE!
Whether armed or with prayer, they met their end,
futile struggle, Kiddush HaShem.
Our duty to those whose fate we survived
is in working to keep their memory alive.
I ask ... why a people whose destiny has been
to enlighten a world through darkness and din,
whose lives are as many as they have been few,
why so despised has been the Jew?
For what 'good' reason is he chosen to die?
Why gone unnoticed the tear in his eye?
Has he not suffered so while the world stands by,
Why have we not ever heeded his cry?
Is there really a difference that makes him seem strange,
as if the same blood did not course through his veins?
Does he not laugh, cry, and feel just as you?
How threatens he when he numbers so few?
Threatened with death should he adhere to his ways,
terrorized by chimneys above which rose haze,
searchingly hopeful ... in whose starry gaze
are reflected the faggots whose fires roar ablaze.
Why did none act to stop it once knowrn?
Enough indifference haven't we sown?
Praying to the heavens as they did every day,
that soon they'd see planes flying their way,
so bombardment, please god, should take us
ere the chambers would
but, the Allies denied they could destroy the rails
leading straight into Hell,
from which precious few reemerged to tell
of the horrors awaiting them, so hard to believe,
that neither kindness nor life did the arrivals receive.
The children, too, thrust into the pit,
enraged blood lust, into its infernal fit
that even the babes whose potential so great
should have felt the steel of this magnificent hate,
whose cries were heard, but listened to none,
whose heads fell limp with the snap of a gun,
whose parents, god forbid! they saw as naked as they,
for it was like this ...that they suffered that day.
There are those who challenge what we have to say,
"Does such a retelling remains relevent today?"
"That, somehow, It's past, gone. Let it be!"
"Why do you make us suffer to see:
the killings, the children, the mountains of bone,
the chambers transformed so many to stone!
who dropped like logs when the doors were thrown wide,
there simply had been ... no place to hide,
mothers whose skirts offered refuge at least
little ones uncovered ...thrown into the fiery feast.
"Of what use" it was queried,
"could they possibly be"
in a stench wherein no one was happy or free?"
Ne'er a glimmer of hope would the murderers give
to those whose sole wish ... was only to live.
Mothers from children, families asunder,
might others have withstood this fury and thunder?
Slave labor was needed to further the 'cause',
to build V-2 rockets, to sharpen the claws.
For such, 'noble' men, doctors by fame
were employed to brutalize, murder, and maim
so that 'Science' could learn when life was so cheap,
discarded mankind onto the heap.
'Great' governments had met in order to be
as pious as possible, but deaf to the plea ...
of the wandering Jew whose torment to see
how unwelcome he waS in the 'Land of the Free'.
The ship onto which so many had stormed
could not find refuge for opinion had formed
that the Jew was expendable, a nuisance, a thorn
upon whom fate had abandoned its contemptuous scorn.
They made it to America these "tired and poor"
to discover Liberty's spark shone little more
that, for them, there was not room enough to remain,
what hopes they had cherished were all now in vain!
Dejectedly they limped back to the place
which had expelled them at first for the same lack of space.
Stripped naked and paraded for the world to see
what sickness had afflicted modern Germany?
Once active and vigorous this citizenry now wandering about quite aimlessly.
It didn't take long for the nazis to see
that the world cared less for these Jews to be free.
A 'final solution' would quicken the pace
that guarenteed mastery to the 'Aryan' race.
No longer at issue either sufferance or claim,
onto Jewry was placed the burden and blame.
To repair the world, there first must needs be
a point at which we accept responsibility
for right against wrong, fiction from fact,
a basis upon which we can responsibly act,
Once active and vigorous this citizenry now wandering about quite aimlessly.
It didn't take long for the nazis to see
that the world cared less for these Jews to be free.
A 'final solution' would quicken the pace
that guarenteed mastery to the 'Aryan' race.
No longer at issue either sufferance or claim,
onto Jewry was placed the burden and blame.
To repair the world, there first must needs be
a point at which we accept responsibility
for right against wrong, fiction from fact,
a basis upon which we can responsibly act,
but why even bother...
so distant from then,
what more do we gain, what message we send?
For the sake of' the children,
if not for our own ...
and for them whose lives ...
we
might
otherwise
have
known.
Alan D. Busch
revised 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The White RoseWherein the Enlightenment had so radiantly shone ...
descended a darkness o'er the land, a blackening,
not of locusts sent by God ...
but that of an even more stubborn Pharoah
whose heart was even harder ...
whose command over masses numbing,
yet ultimately insufficient to blot out the light of day.
Ashkenaz- a land in which so many B'nai Jacov,
had come to make their homes.
Though in galus, already centuries old, why next year in Jerusalem ...?
This Pesach yearning ... hadn't they already arrived?
fought well in defense of the Fatherland?
who bore the Iron Cross proudly? '
Yet was there no foreshadowing of the darkness?
or had it not been when the land forgot Moses Mendelssohn,
and... bore Alfred rosenberg?
Had not Heine known that a land wherein books are burned,
so will humans ultimately be?
where the admonitions of the few prophetic voices
drowned out by the din of the incredulous
whose skepticism and cynical mockery provided advance notice
of evil's transcendence?
Or might it have been when men's apathy and fear
began to terrorize living space and individuality's resistance little remained?
when Jew hatred and blood letting were becoming national pasttimes-an opiate with which to
drug the masses and passive stupidity replaced the excitement of free thought's spirituality.
It was this same land in which not all debauched themselves
on the alter of the golden calf:
Hans and Sophie scholl were two such people
on whom had not been lost the distinction between right and wrong.
That same ageless lesson from the origins of mamkind's innocence.
The Gestapo executed Hans and Sophie Scholl
whose parents had taught them diligently and ...
spoken to them at home of right and wrong..
Nurtured had been these young people on individuality's inquisitiveness,
enough so that when almost all had become bad,
Hans and Sophie still believed one should have the courage to believe only in what is good.
When so many hysterically applauded tyranny's hypnosis,
this brother and sister had the presence of mind
to stand up and proclaim freedom's stubborn persistence
while the majority clung to falsehoods, deludely and tenaciously.
Hans and Sophie held that living a lie ...
was unworthyof the sacrifice they had prepared themselves to make
should their sojourn lead them too close to the truth.
Our sages knew that few are the righteous whose defiance of evil
leads them across death's yard to the gullitine,
but not before which blossoms pushed out the rot of weeds and beauty overtook ugliness.
For who could have foreseen that a WHITE ROSE ...
could burst forth in a land whose gardenswere fertilized
by the ashes of auschwitz, dachau, buchenwald, treblinka ...
a land wherein only the presumpton of guilt became the standard
of an obscene perversion of justice
on the alter of the golden calf:
Hans and Sophie scholl were two such people
on whom had not been lost the distinction between right and wrong.
That same ageless lesson from the origins of mamkind's innocence.
The Gestapo executed Hans and Sophie Scholl
whose parents had taught them diligently and ...
spoken to them at home of right and wrong..
Nurtured had been these young people on individuality's inquisitiveness,
enough so that when almost all had become bad,
Hans and Sophie still believed one should have the courage to believe only in what is good.
When so many hysterically applauded tyranny's hypnosis,
this brother and sister had the presence of mind
to stand up and proclaim freedom's stubborn persistence
while the majority clung to falsehoods, deludely and tenaciously.
Hans and Sophie held that living a lie ...
was unworthyof the sacrifice they had prepared themselves to make
should their sojourn lead them too close to the truth.
Our sages knew that few are the righteous whose defiance of evil
leads them across death's yard to the gullitine,
but not before which blossoms pushed out the rot of weeds and beauty overtook ugliness.
For who could have foreseen that a WHITE ROSE ...
could burst forth in a land whose gardenswere fertilized
by the ashes of auschwitz, dachau, buchenwald, treblinka ...
a land wherein only the presumpton of guilt became the standard
of an obscene perversion of justice
and good people were perfunctorily tried and condemned ...
whose only "crime" was they had managed to remain human
in a country where depotism reigned not because ...
there were no good prople left,
whose only "crime" was they had managed to remain human
in a country where depotism reigned not because ...
there were no good prople left,
but that there were so few.
Alan D. Busch
Alan D. Busch
Revised 2007
Up Heaven's Slope
Wearily trod they up heaven's slope,
fatigued, in pain, forlorn
awaiting freedom desperately
that soon it might be born.
Prayerful hopes shoes be found
for souls bereft and torn,
a moment to rest, a breath to breathe
for spirits dulled and worn.
A moment's time in dark travail
mockingly Goliathan was the fight,
that even David who had stood so well
soon stumbled in the night.
Why was there no way
to bring them back home?
O'er hills and fields whence they came
while dreaming did they roam.
Marched back and forth, thin and wane
their figures stooped and grey,
next day ere long gathered clouds again
for fewer who remain.
Should there not have been
the one for whom faith
steadfast but rare,
that his would be enobled by Thee
to seek his just and fair?
Who glimpsed the light but touched it not
whose spark had become so dim,
for them we say such a day,
Never Again! Never Again!
Under lash by day,
nocturnal storms did rage
Why did He not show them
a war He could have waged.
Yet reigned in death's kingdom
a way, a light, a day,
when dawn rising would those eyes see
of whom did faith sustain.
They lie on planks aside bodies
whose heat so little remain,
dreaded morning's welcome soon might bring
next to whom they had just lain.
The world we choose can point the way
down paths long sought by peace,
in whose gardens we plant the seeds
lest memories tragically cease.
Alan D. Busch, copyright 2007
Wearily trod they up heaven's slope,
fatigued, in pain, forlorn
awaiting freedom desperately
that soon it might be born.
Prayerful hopes shoes be found
for souls bereft and torn,
a moment to rest, a breath to breathe
for spirits dulled and worn.
A moment's time in dark travail
mockingly Goliathan was the fight,
that even David who had stood so well
soon stumbled in the night.
Why was there no way
to bring them back home?
O'er hills and fields whence they came
while dreaming did they roam.
Marched back and forth, thin and wane
their figures stooped and grey,
next day ere long gathered clouds again
for fewer who remain.
Should there not have been
the one for whom faith
steadfast but rare,
that his would be enobled by Thee
to seek his just and fair?
Who glimpsed the light but touched it not
whose spark had become so dim,
for them we say such a day,
Never Again! Never Again!
Under lash by day,
nocturnal storms did rage
Why did He not show them
a war He could have waged.
Yet reigned in death's kingdom
a way, a light, a day,
when dawn rising would those eyes see
of whom did faith sustain.
They lie on planks aside bodies
whose heat so little remain,
dreaded morning's welcome soon might bring
next to whom they had just lain.
The world we choose can point the way
down paths long sought by peace,
in whose gardens we plant the seeds
lest memories tragically cease.
Alan D. Busch, copyright 2007
Time to Say ...
You say you needed to hear me say it before I could ...
but I wasn't ready.
I felt it though.
You and I had just begun ...
to be an "us."
It seemed so simple then,
before us nary a challenge,
except one: what to say, how to react
when folks mistook us for father and daughter.
Did we ever figure that out?
You know what?
As upsetting at times as it may have seemed ...
I think we revelled in it.
Bold but not unprecedented ...
an older man loves a much younger woman,
but perplexing was how a much younger woman
could love me?
That confounded me, even troubled me at times.
So when you said "I love you" it made me feel special.
It really did!
But I knew something then you may not have known yet.
No fault of your own.
Just a matter of time.
to show you "I love you."
I held those words back ...
because I feared they'd
be cheapened if I could not back them up with deeds.
And I wanted to give you only the very best I could ...
because it was
for you,
and that meant everything to me and ...
still does.
Because you were ready, but
I was not.
My words I wanted to utter,
only when it was right,
but like all things for which there comes a time ....
now it is ...
I
love
you.
Alan
Revised 8/29/07
You say you needed to hear me say it before I could ...
but I wasn't ready.
I felt it though.
You and I had just begun ...
to be an "us."
It seemed so simple then,
before us nary a challenge,
except one: what to say, how to react
when folks mistook us for father and daughter.
Did we ever figure that out?
You know what?
As upsetting at times as it may have seemed ...
I think we revelled in it.
Bold but not unprecedented ...
an older man loves a much younger woman,
but perplexing was how a much younger woman
could love me?
That confounded me, even troubled me at times.
So when you said "I love you" it made me feel special.
It really did!
But I knew something then you may not have known yet.
No fault of your own.
Just a matter of time.
to show you "I love you."
I held those words back ...
because I feared they'd
be cheapened if I could not back them up with deeds.
And I wanted to give you only the very best I could ...
because it was
for you,
and that meant everything to me and ...
still does.
Because you were ready, but
I was not.
My words I wanted to utter,
only when it was right,
but like all things for which there comes a time ....
now it is ...
I
love
you.
Alan
Revised 8/29/07
A Poetic Dialogue: Son
“Daddy?”
“Yes, Sonny Boy,” I said.
“How come the birds don’t fall out of the sky?” he asked
brilliantly, but not without a partly suppressed yawn.
“D’ya feel the wind on your face when you’re outside, son? I
asked.
“It feels good Dad.” he answered, cheerfully following along.
“The wind, Son, is God’s breath that he blows, but we call it
the ‘wind.’
“Ooookay,” he responded, appearing somewhat quizzical, “but
Daddy remember the birds?” he dutifully reminded me.
“Yes, Son, when God wants to, He blows his breath,” I said.
“Like this, Dad?” he queried, inflating his cheeks and blowing.
“Yes, Ben, just like that, but when God blows his breath, it
catches under the wings of the birds and lifts them up.” I
explained.
“Ooooh,” he replied, scratching his head but clearly intrigued
by the answer.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, Sonny Boy,” I said.
“How come the birds don’t fall out of the sky?” he asked
brilliantly, but not without a partly suppressed yawn.
“D’ya feel the wind on your face when you’re outside, son? I
asked.
“It feels good Dad.” he answered, cheerfully following along.
“The wind, Son, is God’s breath that he blows, but we call it
the ‘wind.’
“Ooookay,” he responded, appearing somewhat quizzical, “but
Daddy remember the birds?” he dutifully reminded me.
“Yes, Son, when God wants to, He blows his breath,” I said.
“Like this, Dad?” he queried, inflating his cheeks and blowing.
“Yes, Ben, just like that, but when God blows his breath, it
catches under the wings of the birds and lifts them up.” I
explained.
“Ooooh,” he replied, scratching his head but clearly intrigued
by the answer.
(excerpted from In Memory of Ben)
Alan D. Busch
2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
"Dignity Restored"
Holy martyrs … kedoshim
For whom monument tall
Shouts defiantly: “NEVER AGAIN!”
at last, for once and all.
Thus hatred's reminder,
its insatiable, implacable aim,
weighing heavily upon humanity’s unforgivable shame.
Atop the bronze mount does stand there remain
Remnants of countless savagely slain:
a mother whose babe has cried its last,
an elderly Jew to whom a boy clings fast.
A partisan fighter whose gestures ignite …
one spark of the hope that flickered by night.
Amidst the rubble of days …that which had been
through the ages a beacon for men ...
the Torah commanding “Thou Shalt Not Kill ...”
albeit in ruins though applicable still!
to our lives which came after relatively free
of terror's ability to blind us who see.
Now tearful, silently stoic first gaze
while vigilance slept, its fires not ablaze ...
why desecrate this monument, a tribute to those
Holy martyrs … kedoshim
For whom monument tall
Shouts defiantly: “NEVER AGAIN!”
at last, for once and all.
Thus hatred's reminder,
its insatiable, implacable aim,
weighing heavily upon humanity’s unforgivable shame.
Atop the bronze mount does stand there remain
Remnants of countless savagely slain:
a mother whose babe has cried its last,
an elderly Jew to whom a boy clings fast.
A partisan fighter whose gestures ignite …
one spark of the hope that flickered by night.
Amidst the rubble of days …that which had been
through the ages a beacon for men ...
the Torah commanding “Thou Shalt Not Kill ...”
albeit in ruins though applicable still!
to our lives which came after relatively free
of terror's ability to blind us who see.
Now tearful, silently stoic first gaze
while vigilance slept, its fires not ablaze ...
why desecrate this monument, a tribute to those
in whose memory we recall
so few of their woes?
Nary a night did pass ere an evil befell,
and reminded, were we all, of heaven and hell.
Now gone were the tears that had welcomed its sight,
but ready were the many to stand and fight ...
an ugly reminder whose obscenities told …
of times long since and graves since cold.
Aroused and awakened this community alert,
so few of their woes?
Nary a night did pass ere an evil befell,
and reminded, were we all, of heaven and hell.
Now gone were the tears that had welcomed its sight,
but ready were the many to stand and fight ...
an ugly reminder whose obscenities told …
of times long since and graves since cold.
Aroused and awakened this community alert,
whose monument remained defiled as such,
to remember one and all, incredulous and carefree,
that history was not over …
as they had hoped it might be.
A garden became this memorial soon
and erased were the lies that had blackened the truth.
Dignity restored its shiny glossto words read anew …
of six million lost.
Toward heaven it points
to remember one and all, incredulous and carefree,
that history was not over …
as they had hoped it might be.
A garden became this memorial soon
and erased were the lies that had blackened the truth.
Dignity restored its shiny glossto words read anew …
of six million lost.
Toward heaven it points
in neither doubt nor shame,
history reminding our memories lame.
That even those departed …
must struggle to hone the spade
that will dig out
this spot
as
their
own.
Alan D. Busch copyright@2007
history reminding our memories lame.
That even those departed …
must struggle to hone the spade
that will dig out
this spot
as
their
own.
Alan D. Busch copyright@2007
"Around My House"
Dedicated to Hadar ...
Around my house
ere dusk fell.
my kallah I await
these words would tell.
Then memories awoke
of moments recall
the evergreen stands
and Ben so small.
I stand and look.
How it has grown!
Twenty years hence
many seeds have sewn!
The old basketball hoop ...
there once a time ...
when I could beat Ben,
a moment sublime.
In memory's flight,
I see only me ...
in this house once lived my children three.
Under Ben's window
wouldst I not know,
that wherein I now sit,
a few tears did flow.
I stepped back ...
to now and saw I did come
my kallah for whose love
my heartbeat
did
drum.
Alan D. Busch
2007
Dedicated to Hadar ...
Around my house
ere dusk fell.
my kallah I await
these words would tell.
Then memories awoke
of moments recall
the evergreen stands
and Ben so small.
I stand and look.
How it has grown!
Twenty years hence
many seeds have sewn!
The old basketball hoop ...
there once a time ...
when I could beat Ben,
a moment sublime.
In memory's flight,
I see only me ...
in this house once lived my children three.
Under Ben's window
wouldst I not know,
that wherein I now sit,
a few tears did flow.
I stepped back ...
to now and saw I did come
my kallah for whose love
my heartbeat
did
drum.
Alan D. Busch
2007
From Your Room
From your room Ben
on this sixth year’s eve
I write these words
alone I grieve.
From your room Ben
lived herein our woes
in wee morning’s darkness
wrestled us our foes.
Where by your bedside
I sat many a night
afraid to leave you ...
lest return it might.
So Ben,
please remember…
never in doubt or need,
our love for you
was always agreed.
Accept these few words
your blue eyes to see ...
o’er these six years
mournful ...
without
thee.
Alan D. Busch
2007
From your room Ben
on this sixth year’s eve
I write these words
alone I grieve.
From your room Ben
lived herein our woes
in wee morning’s darkness
wrestled us our foes.
Where by your bedside
I sat many a night
afraid to leave you ...
lest return it might.
So Ben,
please remember…
never in doubt or need,
our love for you
was always agreed.
Accept these few words
your blue eyes to see ...
o’er these six years
mournful ...
without
thee.
Alan D. Busch
2007
Mourning's Reflections
Illusory strength ...
Illusory strength ...
quivering knees.
Witnessing ...
Irreversible finality.
Near the edge ... swaying,
clutching a moment's time more until words enough,
this end a beginning,
reality obscene.
Linger intimate friends,
voices hushed.
Sobbing disbelief ... soon resignation,
what choice ...really?
Faith, Thou art with me,
though alone I remain
but a shadow of time before;
a mound of earth returns to its void,
last glance, turn to depart
from this ground.
Fading memory searching ...
mind moments
yet
recalled.
this end a beginning,
reality obscene.
Linger intimate friends,
voices hushed.
Sobbing disbelief ... soon resignation,
what choice ...really?
Faith, Thou art with me,
though alone I remain
but a shadow of time before;
a mound of earth returns to its void,
last glance, turn to depart
from this ground.
Fading memory searching ...
mind moments
yet
recalled.
Alan D. Busch
200
published Passing
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