Rise- Rise! Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The day has died like a beautiful pledge coming so close
To making love to the sea:
The day has died, and all our work has done:
We sold so many cantaloupes and unicorns- and the buses of
America passed,
And the impatiens went to sleep beneath the mangroves,
And beneath the graves,
While, Alma, I think of you, while I eek out another tear as if
From stone:
Your body has twenty-four years, but what of your soul:
You have the soul of your grandmother, Alma- you eek out of your
Soul:
The tears of your body like butterflies on the cliffs of Mexico;
And I can hear airplanes, Alma: I can hear all of the stewardesses leaping
Over me,
And you asked me today who was Sharon- Sharon, like the shadow
Of a cat leaping over the play of your ancestors:
Alma, I don’t know who she is, but she is as white as the snow:
But you, Alma: Alma, you are as brown as the forests of
Mexico:
You are as sweet as the furniture of those unadulterated woods, un compromised
Saved for one tattoo on your tiny little wing: Alma, what does it mean,
And is the world turning north for you,
Alma- with your eyes as sweet
As the graves of your abuelas - but you have promised to come and
See me first thing tomorrow, and if you do, Alma:
Alma, can’t you imagine how those sweet graves of our ancestors
Will rise- rise!