The gravestones, in random shapes line the hill the morning chill creeps between them and onto the runway until washed away by the spring sun slowly pushing upward as the jet noise washes the hill unheard
He passed away quietly in his bed ending his dread of the cancer slowly engulfing him his vision dimmed by the morphine that pulsed through his veins. He paused to remember the first spring rains.
She selected the plot on the hillside she would confide to friends, so that he might see the valley at long last free, to see the flowers bloom in early spring, the land that was his home and he its king.
One summer the caskets were carried out while the devout cursed the sacrilege of the master plan of the madman who decided that the airport must sit on the hill, his valley forever split.
The jets rush over the cemetery February snows blown across the gravestones in their wake as one snowflake melts slowly on the ground, a falling tear which, unheard, marks another passing year.
First Appeared in Candelabrum Poetry Magazine (UK), April 2002.
Bow before a king and you may be rewarded but bow before a teacher and expect to be shunned. Which has something to offer? Ask the teacher why he shuns you and he will turn you away.
One offers a bit of gold, one offers a priceless gem. Gold can buy you many things but the gem is worthless to all but he to who it is given. Pick carefully, for here the fool and wise man walk separate paths.
Walking down the helical road, untwisting as you go you discover places you never imaginged visiting, nothing like the path you thought you knew well.
Stop and claim your new heritage, find yourself on an alien map, bury yourself in books of new and ancient history.
Pause here and consider a King of Scotland, knights and lords, in the far distance know that you claim a link to a man so honored that he died by hanging, but was then beheaded and drawn and quartered.
Too late to unswab your cheek, so simply enjoy your ride.
As King, newly appointed, he mulled over what to do for his first official act. The predecessor King was known to be much a recluse, one who tolerated people as a necessity of a Kingdom, and he would say, a good source of revenue to the King. That one didn’t last long, never imagined the people could rise up and overthrow a monarch. He would be more benevolent, but he did need to make a strong initial statement. It came to him – and he issued a decree banning all mirrors and shiny surfaces in public, and he knew it was a good idea when everyone else grew ever older, and he, he knew, never aged a day.
Tell me what you see, he says,
and be as precise as possible.
I suppose I see exactly what you see,
we are looking at the same thing,
at the same time, so how can it be
any different for me then you?
Are you seeing through my eyes?
He smiles, for if so, I’d like you
to get out of my head immediately,
it is already too crowded in here.
You have a pondering look, you probably
want to know why I would like
you tell me what you see.
See, I have only one working eye
and in the kingdom in which we find ourselves,
that hardly makes me King.
We kept them together to protect them, he said, though we did make the men wear the red And yellow badge. You must understand, this was for their good. We didn’t want them corrupted by our Catholicism, so we had to ensure we would not mingle with and debase them. There were our bankers, without them the King would’ve made tax demands on us and a kingdom cannot long survive on the broken backs and empty pockets of its people. And anyway, they knew they need not comply, after all what’s a pound of silver fine to a Jew.