The Shell

THE SHELL


IS IT JUST HIS DEATH THAT WE REMEMBER
IN THIS GIVING OF THIS CUP
THIS SHELL THIS BAPTISMAL DEVICE
THIS GOLDEN SCALLOP
THAT SCOOPS UP WATER FROM THE FONT
AND TRICKLES IT DOWN OUR HEAD
AND CALL US TO BE CHRISTIAN

DO WE JUST REMEMBER HIS DEATH
OR MORE FOR IS NOT THE CUP A SYMBOL POOR
OF SOME GREAT WAVE THAT OVERWHELMS US
SPILLING US FROM OUR FEET
PLUNGING US INTO A VIOLENT SEA
BEATING PUMMELING CHOKING BRUISING
UNTIL WE STRUGGLE TO OUR FEET
GASPING AIR AS SOMETHING PRECIOUS
WILLING TO LIVE

A BETTER SYMBOL PERHAPS OF THAT TIME
WHEN ALL THAT WAS MY FATHER CEASED
AND ALL HE WANTED TO BE BECAME
A GOING AWAY AND COMING BACK
A SAYING OF HELLO -GOODBYE
TO CALL MY FATHER A SAINT
WOULD BE TO NOT REMEMBER HIM

BUT TO CALL HIM A MAN
WHO LAUGHED AND LONGED YEARNED AND DREAMED
WHO CRIED OUT OFTEN IN THE DARKNESS OF HIS BEING
WHO WAS OFTEN ANGRY HURT OR IN SOME PAIN
WHO LOVED WITH BOTH A LARGE AND NARROW HEART
WHO WANTED LOVE APPLAUSE AND OTHER MAN'S ESTEEM
WHO SAW DREAMS CRUMBLE IN HIS ALL THUMBS HAND
WHO CRIED OH GOD TELLS ME WHO I AM
THIS PICTURE OF A MAN WHO AS I GROW
BECOMES SURPRISINGLY JUST LIKE ME

THIS CUP IN WHOSE HOLLOW I CAN HEAR THE OCEAN'S ROAR
THIS SYMBOL OF AN OCEAN POOR
THIS GOING DOWN TO DEATH
TO BE CALLED BACK BY WATER
RUNNING LIKE RAINDROPS ON THE FACE
LIKE MY TEARS FALLING AS MY FATHER WENT
FOR REBIRTH
AND THE BEGINNING OF DREAMS



FRANK A VOLLMER