Chapter 22 - The Great Depression 11.29.00
The streets are filled with
throngs of people
Gray, all of them gray
Daddy robbed my piggy bank
I can't bear his look of pain
Never seen Momma
cry before
But we lost the house today
Millions of stricken mothers and fathers
For the first time in their lives,
afraid
As for all the people buried in dust
They considered themselves to blame
Folks on their way to California
Fill
every corner of this train
They're trying to run from hopelessness
But they won't be able to get away
And all the
bad news is overshadowed
By the millions of eyes - empty, blank
Even if they'd had color photography
Not a single
picture would remain
Because everywhere, everything
Was all gray
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Song for you 11.29.00
Here
is a song for you
I put it on the table
Hoping to make you smile
I watch the corners of your mouth
You fake
it and mumble something
Then you turn around and get back
To what you were doing
And drop the paper like a ton of
bricks
Crashing down on my heart
But you don't hear the sound
What else can I do
But go back to my room
Sit
on the corner of my bed
In dead silence
I've long since given up
Figuring things out
No on else knows
What
a big deal it is
Wish I could cry
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The Circle
11.29.00
We are the ones who can howl at the moon
Moonlight blue ice
Standing in the snow tonight
I
saw your face all cold and wet
The steam from all your tears and sweat
I don't know how many of us there were
There
in the clearing, looking for a cure
But that circle sure was tight
Not a one of us afraid to cry
The cold air seemed
ready to crack
As we each poured out the red and black
In closeness and cold all revealing
In sobbing and silence
we find healing
Don't you write us off too soon
Because we are the ones who can howl at the moon
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Isolation 11.29.00
Lying in a crevice
Just beneath the floor
I
see all the feet
Walking around
Someone spills their beer
It trickles down
Gets in my eyes
Suspended in
a gelatin
In the middle of a crowd
Open my mouth to scream
Nothing comes out
Wait! Someone sees me!
They
stare open-mouthed
And walk away
I swear.
No one stares.
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Pit 11.29.00
my shoulders are cold
my eyes are tired
my mouth and
nose
are filled with mire
stuck in a hole
can't see a way out
i'm not making goals
i won't even shout
i'm
not crying for help
cuz I don't believe it will come
i think about hell
lay down and suck my thumb
i'm tired of
rolling
around in the mud
i think I'll start pulling
maybe even look up
as much as I try
to hide in my hood
it's
in front of my eyes
that you are still good
i can't cry
if you still want
guess I'll let you try
to clean me
up
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7.12.02 (to the Unchanging)
I pick up the pen.
It feels right, it feels small in my hand.
I feel power
But I don't know what to do with
it
Here in this world
Where there really are heroes and martyrs and legends
and saints
Where I've met so many
without knowing
While so many sleep,
Laze in an air-conditioned lullaby haze
An elixir
That keeps us from being
awake
And I'm afraid
Because I'm so vain and proud I can't talk out loud
About the eyes
The many I cannot claim
to understand
About the road
Full of too much negative space that goes unmentioned
in all legend
Or multimedia
But
at least I know I can't walk it alone
Or make it
Trying to be cynical enough for one group and sappy
Enough for the
other
I can't do it.
And I truly have no idea what lies ahead
So I ask you
If you truly promise never to leave,
die, or change
To please hold my hand
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all poems copyright (c)2002 by Ember Schrag
