Tess, dry your tears. She said,
It's a tanager! He said, No. it's two!
The young poodle plunges his whole head
into the rose garden fountain, anxious
for water. No wonder you're in pain.
In Paris, this July, the sun was
still out at ten pm. I checked
my watch, Still light! In Paris!
At the top of the center statue
of the rose garden fountain
a naked boy, like one of Prospero's spirits,
stands steadily on a dolphin's head.
The anxious water slips out of the dolphin's
mouth, cooling the air creatures breathe.
The boy spirit dances on one foot
with complete confidence, four others
look up and smile. The Sufi
with a hooked cane declares liberation
without effort, promises
the quotidian itself is redemption.
Oh, the music last night! The book
of eighties photographs last night.
The moon last night, shining alone,
before the stars. Are you in pain
again? or yet again? I want
to be sensitive, I want
to be or not to be. He will not accept wonder.
It's not too late. That's what I've
been saying all along. No wonder
you're in pain. Do fast walkers
make fast talkers? She finally
left him. How long it will last
I do not know. I know the difference
between sun and light. I want
all of the sun today to tan my body.
The children run ahead of the adults,
talking about their crowded lives.
No wonder they're in pain. A pilgrim
in a white shirt and black tie
tilts his head and preaches
the light of Jesus. It is
too late. It's a time of wonder. A woman closes
her journal and leans forward.
There are roses everywhere
in a business suit dreams of the woman
waiting in his journal. It's never
too late. It's enough to make
the sun shine everyday. A runner
with earphones assures us it will rain.
He backed him until when? The bitter end?
There are promises everywhere. That's what
the light itself means. Their faces are
extinguished by the noon sun, but the colors
of red, yellow, blue, green, white itself
can only be seen by a steady eye. No wonder
this day is blessed. The readiness is all.
Lake Harriet - July Afternoon
Daniel, when I started reading this poem I was thinking what am I reading? As I continued I realized that you were taking many different images and putting them together, using bits of conversations here and there that you heard, a very realistic and appropriate approach while walking through the streets of Paris perhaps. You have given us a glimpse of life that we would not necessarily ever see, all of it flowing exponentially with feelings of physical and emotional pain, adding a note of depth to the entire portrait your have painted for us in this poem. A mother comforting her child adds a brief touch of innocence to the entire experience. Thank you for sharing it. RoseAnn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hello Daniel Brick, Well my simple very basic soul just soaked this up..............I have not been where this experience of yours took place but reading this (it looked like work) kind of felt like I had. I guess that is what is the point of writing; to bring others where you are and let them come along............Blessings within your work and life Kathy