Secrets Born
There is no recompense
for memory.
There is no peace
in distillation.
There are only
secrets born
and carried; papers
to be folded
and thrown.
Summer was bikes;
pickup football;
fireworks ashes falling
on our heads;
long sweet corn trains
ganged together
like circus elephants;
listless morning paper routes;
Webber’s cherry Cokes;
two buck mowing jobs
paid in cookies
and lemonade.
How can we know
at thirteen
the time, the place,
the event
that will change
forever the what
of who we will
become?
The water was
there; and I
drank from it;
to be at one,
a member incarnate,
no longer separate
but part of the one;
a supplicant
to the need to belong
—to no longer
be alone.
At the edge
of town lies
a secret ancient pool
formed in a summer
rain; sprung
from a rising brook;
draining from pasture
and reaching
dark wood.
Those that drink
of these waters
are transformed;
made one
with wood and field,
earth and sky,
and the wind itself
drawn into the mystery.
As a faint
path in the wood;
the water did
remake intention
calling not to many
but of one.
Udell Rollways
July 25, 2004
Rossville Series
©2004 Secrets Born — Joseph W. Yarbrough
Reproduction prohibited without written permission.
for memory.
There is no peace
in distillation.
There are only
secrets born
and carried; papers
to be folded
and thrown.
Summer was bikes;
pickup football;
fireworks ashes falling
on our heads;
long sweet corn trains
ganged together
like circus elephants;
listless morning paper routes;
Webber’s cherry Cokes;
two buck mowing jobs
paid in cookies
and lemonade.
How can we know
at thirteen
the time, the place,
the event
that will change
forever the what
of who we will
become?
The water was
there; and I
drank from it;
to be at one,
a member incarnate,
no longer separate
but part of the one;
a supplicant
to the need to belong
—to no longer
be alone.
At the edge
of town lies
a secret ancient pool
formed in a summer
rain; sprung
from a rising brook;
draining from pasture
and reaching
dark wood.
Those that drink
of these waters
are transformed;
made one
with wood and field,
earth and sky,
and the wind itself
drawn into the mystery.
As a faint
path in the wood;
the water did
remake intention
calling not to many
but of one.
Udell Rollways
July 25, 2004
Rossville Series
©2004 Secrets Born — Joseph W. Yarbrough
Reproduction prohibited without written permission.