Two turkey vultures
sit on the branches
of a barren
wetland tree,
looking down.
We stare at them,
not wanting
to think about
what they stare at,
for we understand
turkey vultures.
They are soon
chased off by
boat-tailed grackles
who we thank
for releasing us
from the funeral.
I was only in jail once,
then for four hours, no charges
and my biggest fear was that
my parents would find out,
or the cops would determine
that I was only 17 and breaking
the park curfew was not
even a misdemeanor.
They let me go, gave me
a ride back to the park,
told me not to go in but
I wouldn’t at 2 A.M.
I assured them,
I’d go home and get some slee
before reporting to the University
for my summer research position.
All these years later I wonder
if that was possibly the cell
that Joe Hill occupied once,
or just what other manner
of criminal I might have
shared space with, hopefully
someone not merely charged
with violating park curfew.
Enter slowly, calmly, and we dare say
enter at your own risk for you cannot know
what will happen within, nor can we
although we have been here countless
times before if our memory serves us, which
of course it cannot for it, too, is stuck
in this very moment with no escape.
Do not try and fight it, nor should you
think about understanding it for the effort
is doomed to failure, and escaping that
is one of the reasons you are here,
if you look openly at yourself, painful
thought that is for each of us always.
If you find it, or when, do not try
to hold on to it, for it cannot be held,
merely welcome it in and when
it decides to leave, as it will,
bid it a gentle farewell and smile.
an old writer and his words 