So this Irish son of immigrants married— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
the daughter of Norwegians
and he from a line that ended faltering
and she from the small Minnesota towns
lost in dust.
The years have passed, the wrinkles grown,
the children strong.
What are we…you, my love, and I
but the fabric that has made my life a joy.
I wish I could say my thoughts better
my heart fills with so much
and I turn to try to say
how very much I care.
gallagher
13 Jan 83
Archive for the ‘1983’ Category
1983-01-13
Thursday, January 13th, 19831983-02-06 The Winds of War
Sunday, February 6th, 1983The Winds of War— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
The winds of war and I can feel the sinews of time
about to rip from their anchors
children, customs, love, forms, history, memory
torn thru every part, across every line
Here a picture of Poland’s jews
a wedding day the day before Germany invades
I remember a museum… a few books… black and white photos
of people in black clothes and funny hats
all gone, all gone
neighborhoods, blocks, buildings, families, marriages
children, furniture, clothes, books, records, memories
all gone
but for these isolated pieces in the museum
02-06-83
SJC
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
GALLAGHER
7 Feb 83
San Juan Capistrano
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
