On Sophie's choice
Let me look ... let the light freeze just there
on these love worn hands and new grayed hair
softly now ... go and see your child
go and look ... with your eyes that can feel and smile
That your children, so loved, can die ... its unbelievable
their small coats still buttoned up.
And your wife, with her warmth at night
and all those photograph albums shared
and the cups she's dried with care
and the small wrinkles that seem to run
where once was young and fair.
Go, my friend, and walk the house and touch the wood
and sit among it ... your midnight kin
and let the walls come round you ... and the moments wait
while you think how frail, ...how frail is this love
That a child, you've dressed for school can die,
a bullet's glove, on a concrete step.
And that the woman who's shared all those years
can become just a statistic
in some foreigner's newspaper
Some day these all, the child, warm wife, and wood
could be torn from your page of life
and your cups go broken ... and their skin grow cold
while pitiless politicians
vie for their intangible goods....
Gallagher
12 January 1983
Dallas, TX
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —