9/12/01
Tears of State
She is crying, that great Lady of Liberty.
The deep wound in her soul bleeds.
Her hands are scratched as she rises.
Blood pours from her head mixing with salty tears
and dripping to the rough ground.
A crowd watches from a distance.
Some reach out a hand, a comforting word.
Heads wag and murmurs of shock float in the air.
Others laugh, dancing, 'It's time,' they say.
As she looks up, eyes flutter and flash;
sadness and surprise join hands with
anger, determination, and inner strength.
The robes of safety are torn,
and as she searches for the book of history,
she sees that it has opened to a new page.
There is fire and blackness, but as it turns
she sees that there is a hope for tomorrow.
The new chapter has only just begun.
The great torch has but a glimmer,
yet as her fingers grasp its worn handle,
the pain feeds the sputtering flame
until it blazes with a new urgency.
Her face turns upward, burning,
a beacon in the blackness reaching out
to gather her frightened children around her.
The blaze lights up the night meeting the sun
as it rises over an unwritten paragraph.
History is waiting to be born today.
Gone is the sleep of yesteryear.
Resolve hardens into polished steel.
The book is put aside; now in Liberty's hand
is the sword of judgement.
It has awakened in her heart
and as the mists clear, the writing begins
...in blood.
...Written by Chris Fink...
Velvet & Treasures
we spin out lifes yarn wildly
hoarding our space, coveting our joys
wondering who will steal our fun
passersby peer thru our web wondering
what do they hold so tightly
inside is so few simple things
shrouded in pain or shame
those who see us offer a hand
hoping to share in the life
seeing a need to join together
yet we ball up tighter in distrust
while our secrets wile away our energy
until one day we lose momentum
and the loss is more than the gain
we are visited by good fortune
in the form of new happiness
there is interaction yet mistrust
smiles yet guarded wrinkles
finger by finger our hands are pried
falling away from the pain
letting light twinkle in on the shadows
in exchange for the sad movies
we are given romance
and for the painful memories
new pennies aplenty
and we start to see that for all the hiding
those things we had come to love
were but rust and trifles
and what we received in return
was velvet and treasures...
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Legacy of a Statesman
Out across our Capitol he stares, watching with
pride as we grow; with sadness as we die.
Though his hands be planted, his spirt yearns to
reach out.
For young and old alike, he persevered though hate, through war, and ultimately, through death.
Giving what little he could, wringing out of that
lanky frame every ounce of hope, to hold the very
robes of Democracy around a fragile baby that was our Union.
However we glorify him as the years go by, we
must remember, he was but a man, and so could only do so much for us then
Now, however, it is up to each and every one of us that live in this Union that has grown up.
Our strapping country is still a teenager on the
world stage of experience.
Here at home, we each hold a piece of that puzzle.
Though we remember and thank those that began the
course, it comes down to what we do now, today, that
will make our tomorrow.
What will Lincoln see when you visit him; a proud
American like himself or just a passerby, a tourist,
who looks, but then leaves and doesn't care.
It is up to us, you and I.
What will the Legacy become for the little ones who take the torch from our tired hands?
Will the great man be crying once again as we are
dying, or will he love the America that is yet to
come, the America of the future?
You will decide, as will I...
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