I’m including a poem today that I wrote a few months ago. It
is a reflection of the times in which we live: a period when the world is
changing so fast that our children and grandchildren cannot even relate to the
ways of society just a few decades past.
Just as there is a chasm between generations in technology
and philosophy, there has been a figurative implosion of the Earth that has
left us lost in clouds where no one can find sanctuary.
The tall grass can neither hide us nor protect us from the
revolution that has swept us along for 115 years. Instead it helps to fuel the
journey into the future, taking us to a place where even the ghosts are
swallowed by their history.
“Ghosts” (copyright
2015, Glenn K. Currie) was just published in Touchstone’s summer issue,
although an editorial error has listed the wrong author. Fortunately the check
was issued to the correct person and I have been promised that the error will
be corrected in the next issue.
My best regards to all of you for a wonderful 2016.
Glenn K. Currie
Ghosts
Tall grass muffled
their departure
So that I hardly knew
they were gone.
Sometimes I think I
see them
Running along the
edge of ancient forests.
Their hooves pound
the hollowed earth
That falls away even
as I watch.
The ground shifts,
the planet spins,
And they are
swallowed whole.
Their graves are the
caverns left
By the needs of their
successors.
Their replacements
rage across the land,
Arriving in
spectacle, burning the air,
Eating the tall grass
of their ancestors.
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