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RE: [ticket2write] Re: Raised Names in the Sun

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  • Jim Lamoreux
    Thank you Suzianne. This was written to honor the death of a child of one of my writing instructors. The little one struggled to live at birth and died later
    Message 1 of 3 , Dec 18, 2012
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      Thank you Suzianne. This was written to honor the death of a child of one of
      my writing instructors. The little one struggled to live at birth and died
      later for reasons my professor didn't go into. His marriage was the second
      casualty. I was thinking about the sorrow that was enveloping Newtown these
      days and dug this up to share.

      Jim.


      -----Original Message-----
      From: ticket2write@yahoogroups.com [mailto:ticket2write@yahoogroups.com] On
      Behalf Of Susan Donahue
      Sent: Tuesday, December 18, 2012 11:39 AM
      To: ticket2write@yahoogroups.com
      Subject: [ticket2write] Re: Raised Names in the Sun

      Dear Jim,

      This is beautiful. My genealogy research frequently leads me to graves and
      I have noticed that each cemetery has a sort of personality of its own.
      Your observatons are interesting.

      Suzianne


      --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "Jim Lamoreux" wrote:

      Raised Names in the Sun

      What is this place called
      Where the sun delicately kisses dew
      From long, trimmed lawns
      Green blades like fingers tapping.
      And in the grass
      The stray lawn trimmed away
      Who are these people
      Why are their names here
      Under this bright
      And persistent sun?

      In the distance
      Cars move by the iron fence,
      An angel stands in a stony signal
      To a turning sky.

      Who are these strangers
      That sleep without a sound beneath these markers While above them The
      careless white noise of Life hums on?

      I have come here
      Looking for something
      My senses too raw to know.
      I have come here
      My heart breaking
      From forces that flutter
      Like butterflies upon my window.

      Beyond these decorated gates
      The world moves to and fro
      Like debris in an empty field.
      Beyond these gates
      There is birth and death igniting, then Rocketing all over the world Like
      wind blown embers in the night From a fire that I sat by There in the
      darkness with my love.

      I am brought
      To this world of raw silence,
      Passing each grave like a ghost,
      No name to recognize
      No place to kneel
      No spot to pause and weep
      Into the evaporating air,

      But one.

      As the sun touches me
      With long fingers
      Heating the minutes
      Into shimmering mites of Time
      My hand reaches across
      Borders that expand
      In one long breath
      To the very ends of the Universe
      My fingers touch at the morning air
      Heavy with dissolving dew
      And hover over that single place
      So tenderly
      Laid among the others
      And touch the raised letters
      Of a name.

      It's like opening a secret lock
      To an old door
      And as it opens on loud hinges
      Things emerge that make me remember
      Things I can touch, things I can never touch again.

      And in that moment
      Where the curtain that Death draws around a life Seems so impenetrable I
      realize that beside me Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sons, All join me here
      And touch their own raised And sun warmed names On different days At
      different times

      But always together.




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