Monday, January 31, 2011

Excerpt From My Journals

On September 11, 2001, the day of the terrorist attacks, I was in Maine with two of my friends.  I kept a written journal so I would never forget the emotions I experienced being so close to where all of the horror was happening. 

Shore Path
looking south
 Four days after the attack on America, I spent the afternoon by myself along the Shore Path in Bar Harbor, Maine.  Private land-owners allow this 100+ year path to be walked by the private individual seeking solitude.

Sitting on a park bench beneath a shade tree facing the bay, I wrote this poem....

Reverencing the sea's majestic hypnosis
   While slow, methodical splashes
Of sea water wipe across bare rocks
   And return back into the bay.

Islands in view, studded by tall pines,
   Reaching as though needing to
Escape the grip of rocks
   Cemented in the sea.

Buoys bounce, lobster boats go out to their traps
   For the generous catch to haul up
To the lobster pounds to get monetary
   Reward for their arduous labor.

Bar Harbor's mansions paint a landscape
   Dotted with wealth and prominence
Down-East hospitality brings a twinge of guilt
   For the culture from whence I come.

Nowhere have I felt the sacred peace of soul
   As in the State of Maine
Where the path of simplicity and sheer beauty
   Pledge a vow to comfort the resident.

Seaweed garnishes rocks protruding from the sea floor
   Drying to an amber hue
A lone kayaker paddles slowly along with
    windjammers, catamarans, lobster boats,
Motor boats and military cruisers on active duty.

Dear heart, you lay claim to the possession
   of the sea
No matter where I may live,
  you will remain in this charismatic cove of content.

One has only to indulge the senses
   And give reign to the sixth
Which connects with the ethereal
  Always beyond one's reach.

I sit where the sun rises first
   Tomorrow I follow its westerly way
I engrave the shoreline
   Onto my soul to take home with me.

A long ledge of fragrant roses
   Fog horns echo across the bay
Where the continent begins
  America the Beautiful has suffered sorrow.

Courage, hope, and determination embraces
   This Land's horizon and clings tightly
To each individual heart bruised by
   The terrorist attack.

From this sea to the other sea,
   We grasp hands
Pleading for peace and freedom
   From the evil that has stained our soil.

My Heart Lives in Maine