I have tried to teach you how to love.
I took you to the hilltop
where all is calm and quiet
except the howling of the wind
the strength of nature’s breath.
To the riverside you’ve been
where the waters sing a song
and felt the cool, clear waters
until with it, you were one.
I have made you listen
to the celestial chorus
that haunts the water fall
as day after day and year after year
it pours down from the heavens.
Even the quietude of meadows green
the peace at such a land
the meditative nature of such a place
has enveloped your mind.
I’ve let the tragedy at hospitals
where the battle for life goes on
the mournful pains of losing people
strike the cords of your soul
Or at the slums
where the rapist throngs
the needy live and die,
I’ve let you live each moment there
till their hopelessness you’ve felt.
You’ve watched the scraper of the sky
stand majestically over land,
and knew the grandeur of the man
whose works gave birth to these.
Since, if you must love me
you must love all there is...
for I am not apart from it,
I am on part of it.
Yet, when I ask you every time
have I taught you to love?
A vacant look comes to your eyes
you try to smile but can’t
a blank look spreads across your face
and then you walk away.
A series of Past tense – poems from 1972 – 1986