This Poem was Submitted By: Mark D. Kilburn On Date: 2001-07-12 14:28:42 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Shaded Thoughts

    The trees of the Midwest     grow stronger each season,     as my recollections of them     wane and meld with past dreams.     Their sap blood equally     precious, as my own.     I think of all trees     and summer shades of      columnar beauty.     How many trees wasted     on paper and housing?     They were wasted on Rapa Nui     as they were wasted in Rome.     Thousands made into crosses;     including one for Jesus,     just for speaking his peaces.     (the ultimate waste of wood)     Preachers say he was a      carpenter of missing years,     historians say he was a mason.     My grandfather was a Mason,     of the thirty-second degree.     I've heard the word racism     mentioned with the Masons,     but never with my grandad.     He was a Hoosier     from Muncie, Indiana.     I saw an old photo once,     of an Indiana lynching     from ninety years past;     a black man hung unjustly     from what looked like     a sweet gum tree.     As I studied the white faces     staring out of that photo,     I could see them all warring.     A battle of guilt and ignorance     raging on each hateful face,     plainly visible to those who look.     For all people know;     including the cowards,     what is right and wrong.

Copyright © July 2001 Mark D. Kilburn


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