Archive for May, 1985

1985-05-05

Sunday, May 5th, 1985
      Sometimes like a vessel that just gets filled
      I have to stay up late and pay my bills.
      Open my heart all across the page
      and let the pains and fears and love come rage.
      Here where the evening waits with me
      my family's breathing is love indeed
      and I'm here in a poet's home
      of dusty memories...and my heart alone.
      Oh, God, why did you give me these feelings here
      so I ache from love and the passage of years.
      You gave me this vision and a hungry heart,
      so I'm a mystic, a lover, and a father; part.
      And here am I astride the years
      stumbling from blindness and my gaping fears.
      So I bow my head, let the wind take all...
      we're the leaves of your being
      who hear the sweet ground call.
                              gallagher
                              5 May 85

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1985-05-05 Canada immanent

Sunday, May 5th, 1985

Canada immanent

Sometimes I cannot sleep at night
got thoughts in my head in a cold arc light
… running around.

Visions of potentials; people and time
like and endless nightmare running in my mind
… a moving light

Canada, like a lover that calls
the faces of my children; how I love them all
… Lord, I’m trying

In my mind I’m crossing over some line
time lines running … families unwind
… a sharper time

Lives and lovers are won and lost
by decisions made in times so crossed
… I won’t do wrong

And I bow, on my knees, to a God who cares
to lead my hands in these affairs
amen …

gallagher
5 may 85

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1985-05-05

Sunday, May 5th, 1985

A little boy has the chicken pox
his skin comes boiling
but its my heart
that talks…

He whines and twitches; it itches so bad,
and I look at his skin and I get mad.
Love and anger, compassion and strain,
I ache for his innocence, so small against pain

These moments are burnt of welling tears
hard passages through my mortal fears.
The love we feel, on this stage of death,
for long vanished children and we who’re left here.

All this was mine as I held his hand.
As his little courage
struggled so hard to stand.
All this was mine
…but, God, … I can’t understand.

gallagher
5 may 85


— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —