April 20, 2021: Obscurity Bay

Obscurity Bay
 
I met a soul in the woods by Obscurity Bay.
I asked him his name, but he said, “Words get in the way.”
He said, “The things I’ve found when I travel around
from question marks to phonemical sounds
get me on a symbological down
when all I want to do is pray.”
 
Well, I looked at him and I said I was kind of confused.
He said it was only from living in the media’s news.
He said “What’s happening’s strange; not just the market exchange,
but our values and concepts are going to get re-arranged,
and you’ve got to open yourself to the change.
There's not a lot of time to snooze!
 
He said, “We’ve got the heart that’s bigger than the anger and fear!
We’re the ones who seek deeper than the surface appears!
With a definitive pose, we’ll make our terminal close.
You know, your very countenance shows:
The secret’s ripe.  It’s time to expose
It’s love that’s growin’ ‘round here!"
 
I asked him if he ever had time for a friend.
He said his buddies were the seeds that fly in the wind.
He said, “I’m not unkind if I leave you behind.
I just follow my heart while I look for the mind.
You can come along if you’re so inclined.
I’ve never been one to contend!”
 
I met a soul in the woods by Obscurity Bay!

April 20, 2021: A Sight in Camp . . . by Walt Whitman in Leaves of Grass, pg. 247

 A Sight in Camp in the Daybreak Gray and Dim

A Sight in camp in the daybreak gray and dim
As from my tent I emerge so early sleepless,
As slow I walk in the cool fresh air the path near by the hospital tent,
Three forms I see on stretchers lying, brought out there untended lying,
Over each the blanket spread, ample brownish woolen blanket,
Gray and heavy blanket, folding, covering all.

Curious I halt and silent stand
Then with light fingers I from the face of the nearest the first just lift the blanket,
Who are you elderly man so gaunt and grim,
    with well-gray'd hair, and flesh all sunken about the eyes?
Who are you my dear comrade?

Then to the second I step -- and who are you my child and darling?
Who are you sweet boy with cheeks yet blooming?

Then to the third -- a face nor child nor old, very calm,
as of beautiful yellow-white ivory;
Young man I think I know you -- 
I think this face is the face of the Christ himself,
Dead and divine and brother of all, and here again he lies.