April, 2011

(For 2010 and 2011 Corp Members)

We have long sailed on different waves
Of life’s turbulent sea,
And the clouds of memory have grown even dimmer.
Our sacks hold frail hopes and impotent dreams…
Distance manures the wilderness of forgetting;
Absence shakes the precipice of remembering.

I will recognize your face when I see
A green zebra galloping through a wildfire;
Claws of hunger and talons of hate tattooed,
On the defiant gallery of its skin,
Their ruthless artistry.


I will recognize the glow of the crested torch,
Etched in your soul before it dressed your vest.
These rampaging memories, like spade,
Shall dig the mind's profound grave.

How could I forget slashing machete patterns
That you carry like kangaroo pouch?
Your back was worked by a sleeping Michelangelo:
To a canvas of riots, confusion and defiant obscenities,
From a mad prehistoric prophet.

Nor will the fallen, the lost and the maimed,
Lose their seats in the illimitable chambers of my soul.
They, too, carry the wounded flag of our national epiphany;
They, too, hold the bold undying emblem of our inseparable bond.