Archive for the ‘Gerda’ Category

1983-02-07 Gerdas Knife

Monday, February 7th, 1983

                           Gerda's Knife

      I watched 'Winds of War' on TV and then turned out the light
         And, on the stairs, in the dark, ascending
            I saw your father's knife as it hung in your bedroom.

      Its white metal patient these many years
         since another sun shown on it
            in the days of the German Reich.

      I could hear flags whipping, red and black,
         against the green of trees
            and the gray of building stones

      and, for a moment, felt the eyes of countless men
         as their hands caressed its handle's symbol
            and reveled in the power and purpose of a God given cause

      and then, these many years later, through chances too rare to say,
         I came and found it there in your room
            waiting patiently through all my childhood and travels

      A time machine from another land
         another time
            that almost changed my world

      I look at old photos, black and white,
         and so much time seems too stand between me and those images
            but with your father's knife

      I could hear the flags whispering
         in the crisp air of that unique time
            and feel their dreams across the years

                                    7 Feb 83
                                    San Juan Capistrano

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1983-11-18 Gerda

Friday, November 18th, 1983


What magic with this woman
that such a current of humaness
runs thru us together
that we lock into our perceptions
and feelings together
and with laughing eyes
within the trust born of deep knowing
we mingle, spirit to spirit,
like warm hands,
like family,
like children of God.

18 nov 83
– at Gerda’s

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —


Monday, April 23rd, 1984

              I spent the afternoon unmoored;
              driven before the pressured storms.
              deadlines, complexity, frustration
              my centeredness ebbed, ...naked

              So what, here, now, as the evening falls?
              and Vollenweider's music plays
              and Gerda's letter lies on my floor
              and, perhaps, Lise will call.

              So what, here and now...
              Am I that manager, that programmer
              am I those tasks undone
              or Dick Pick's condescension incarnate?

              I am the father of my children
              the writer of poetry
              the lover of some women
              and a seeker of God in this world.

                              23 apr 84

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —