Written in remembrance o' my Gran.
If all the seas were sucked from
mother earth's breasts,
then perhaps no man would differ
My sorrows would sadden a black man
in his leafy jungle
and the spider which upon his shoulder crawls
would sting my heart.
If the sun were never again to shine
upon a Tuareg in the vast Sahara,
then perhaps an Inuit tear would fall
silent cold, down an icy cheek
and somewhere in the shadow of
high mountain sierras,
a Zuni elder would pray for spirits
not yet at rest.
If I could attain the wisdom of the wise,
would I impart my love to those
who lack compassion for others?
My gran would take me to task
if I would not fingertip the nose
of an aboriginal warrior
who goes walkabout
in naked innocence.
If the day should ever come when we can
smile and tease each other for the foolishness
of our fallibility
and pray together to our separate Gods,
then might our grandchildren wonder
there ever was a time
when Gran and Granda
never laughed together..