Blue Moon Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

Blue Moon



A blue moon rises over the Mississippi
And time ceases to exist.
This could be the Nile
Or the Ganges or the Amazon.

My companions could be alligators
Or snakes or the night birds that prey
On the tiny lives that scurry up and down
The trees that seem to hold these banks in place.

Is that a jackal I hear or a coyote?
Is that the call of the god who promises
To meet us all when we cross over?
Or is it the cry of some lost, wandering ghost?

I stay close to my campfire,
Blinded to the rest of the night.
My ears become my sentries.
The unseen world comes to life.

I believe I can hear
Captives fleeing
Hounds baying
Men giving chase.

The idyllic river of the daylight
Becomes something sinister in the dark.
I cease to imagine rafts and paddle boats
And begin to think of slave patrols and lynchings.

As I listen to the sound of water lapping,
I begin to hear a drumbeat.
I begin to hear cries raised in unison.
I become a witness to an ancient scene.

This river has seen battles.
This river has seen settlements burned,
Families driven from their lands,
Children starved and clubbed and shot.

None of this is forgotten.
None of this can be undone.
But like the river, history flows,
Sometimes in tears, sometimes in blood.

When our time has come,
When our cities are reclaimed by sand and sea,
The river will be as it is tonight,
Alive and unconcerned with our world.

Saturday, August 1, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: death,time
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Suzanne Hayasaki

Suzanne Hayasaki

Menomonee Falls, WI, USA
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