April is National Poetry Month, and in order to celebrate, I’ve invited my younger brother to pen a poem for the blog. Brian is currently working for a T-shirt sales company and is about to start a job with the 2010 Census. He lives in… well, that’s hard to say. He grew up in Alabama and is often there, though I seem just as likely to get emails from Canada, Ireland, or Spain. Brian ran with the bulls in Pamplona TWICE last year. I’m waiting for there to be a knock on my door here in Geita — followed by my brother’s story of a trip to Africa as a stowaway on some commercial oil tanker. Brian loves to write, and occasionally does so at The Dashing Life and Exuberant Times of Brian Harrison… and Other Rare Anecdotes. Oh, and he dresses funny.
In truth, I cannot at all recall,
What that elusive time was like for me.
Who does? Everyone is striving to stall,
The end scene, that we forget to be,
And a haze falls over our fabled birth,
Robbing us of every moment’s mirth.
A Poem for Baylor
– by Brian Harrison
But you were born across the shifting sea, The sun that spills out your rosy morning, Tears himself from our darkened company, And those distant waves that once were forming, Now break in storm, to our shadowed shore. Telling us of you, the gladness that the wind bore.
But in pictures, I have only known you, And what gushing mothers have seen, and skype. And these tell of wakening eyes of blissful blue, Of morning sands, the sea’s joy, the earth’s hype, Music we all did hear, when the spheres had sung, God was near, when the world was young.
What world of soft bliss have your eyes known? When every breath breathes with Heaven mingle, And the morning stars sang their silver tone, And to have a heartbeat is to tingle, With luxuriant Creation, the Sublime, That heart-wrenching vision of the Divine.