And in the morning when the rain stopped shining,
The Lady picked daintily over waters tainted
With twisted wrecks of once-high trawlers.
The North wind blew flecks of lilies, pieces of
Sheds...crowding waves of last October.
Last October, Halloween month.
Tricks of hope, treats of tears.
Blue, blue string clouds. Sun shining on
Bags of ice, trucks of food.
Sagging faces, waiting in line. Whining children
Hanging on luck of one bowl of Cheerios.
He told the Lady to go home...she was not needed
To stroll the waters, hold the tides.
That, she did.
And through the murk Her voice went out,
Called Heaven back, biding, waiting...
Until Heaven was furious...boats' hulls' brimming.
Mortgages know nothing of Heaven, or a
Lady grinning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have never, ever had to miss a meal...so that line HANGING ON LUCK OF ONE BOWL OF CHEERIOS strikes a chord deep within my soul. I simply cannot imagine what this was like.....even though I saw it with my own eyes, and heard the stories with my own ears from the folks who moved up to my part of Mississippi...it just went beyond belief. However, your poetry brings it all home again.