Thursday, April 8, 2021

April 8, 2021 -- Blind, Deaf, and Dumb

Blind, Deaf, and Dumb
 
By secrets suppressed and hidden away;
By aiming to be what we can’t become;
By social assumptions that block our way,
We all are blind, and deaf, and dumb.
By guilt, I have become a slave
To conflicted desires that keep me numb.
Still, I seek what is right and I will to be brave,
For we all are blind, and deaf, and dumb.
And vaguely, still in the shadows,
I march to the beat of my different drum.
I search my silence in fragrant meadows,
To remember where I’m coming from.
 
There comes the time of awakening,
When faces of phantoms are once seen clear.
There comes the time of awakening,
When we accept the past in the love that’s here.
There comes the time of awakening:
Alive to the sun and the scent of the air.
There comes the time of awakening:
To be, to heal, to touch, to care.
 
Cut off the bonds of propriety,
And let the lions come,
To roar at the gates of society
And let the walls fall down.
Tear off the yoke of our tyranny,
And let all people come.
Let us choose our destiny;
Rise from the underground.
We rise together beyond the machines
That hypnotized with a sinister hum.
Now reach to fulfilling our deepest dreams:
Love, and justice, and freedom song.
 
But people I see are just milling around,
And it’s still the same old place.
I spoke my truth, but the words were drowned
In puling tears and waste.
For all that I’ve dreamed, and all that I’ve known
It seems a useless game.
With all I’ve attained, I still stand alone
With the degraded, disheartened, disabled, insane . . .
With people who can’t take their load off their backs,
And so many tragic pretenders,
Oppressed by feeling that their cards are stacked;
Molded into their anger!
 
In all that we’ve done, and all that we’ve said
We strive towards a wiser intention!
We honor the prophets; the screaming dead
And are not swallowed up in convention.
Yet now, I recall – I’ve just opened my eyes,
And it’s a personal journey for seeking the source.
Gotta follow our hearts, with Love as our guide:
No need of self-pity, or fear, or remorse,
But believe in people; believe in the earth;
Believe in the hope that we can be one:
In touch with Life, with death and rebirth:
We’re the hope for the healing of the blind, deaf, and dumb.

April 8, 2021: A Psalm of Life by H. W. Longfellow in Oxford Anthology of Amer. Lit., Page 567

 A Psalm of Life

What the heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist

Tell me not, in mournful numbers
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real!  Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act that each to-morrow
Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, --act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

April 30, 2021: Making My Way

                      Making My Way Warehouse work can be mindless, And the laborers  come and they go. The bosses aren’t known for kindness...