Archive for 1983

1983-01-13

Thursday, January 13th, 1983

So this Irish son of immigrants married
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


— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1983-02-06 The Winds of War

Sunday, February 6th, 1983

               The Winds of War


      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




— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1983-02-07 Gerda’s Knife

Monday, February 7th, 1983


                           Gerda's Knife

      I watched 'Winds of War' on TV 
      and then I turned out the light
      And, on the stairs, in the dark, ascending
          I suddenly 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, 
     I felt the eyes of countless men
      as their hands caressed 
     the handle's symbol
      reveling in the power and purpose 
     of their 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 the years of my childhood.

      A time machine 
     from another reality.
      A time that almost 
     changed my world.

      I look at old photos now, 
     black and white,
      and their images seem 
     so distant and unreal to me.
            
  but with your father's knife
        I could still hear the flags snapping
     in the fervent air of those years
        and I could feel the force of it all
      across the years.

                                    GALLAGHER
                                    7 Feb 83
                                    San Juan Capistrano

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —