Prophetic Voices, XVII

Herewith, the latest selection from dusted-off published poetry and short fiction, circa 1970s vintage and beyond....

Elegy

Aeons ago a father
told his child:
There's a time coming,
I'm working at, child.
I won't see it but I work
so that you will see its birth.

He died, working
still working mightily
knowing that though he passed
that time would come to pass
and who, then,
could tell him it would not?

His child, now where he was
once told her children
what he had said with such conviction.
She told her children to tell theirs.

But she yet lingers
and to her has come the
awful discovery
that what you see is what you have
and try as you might;
strive as you will,
that is what you have.

The future holds no more.
To shape an element
an event, an ethos;
to shape an imperfect world
you must have an essential force, a spark
which must be nurtured.

That bud to bloom
to bring forth the fruit of completion.
Common clay resists
even when it's crafted with the
knowing hands of the
master craftsman. That basic
sought-for germ eludes us.

c. 1992 Rita Rosenfeld
published in Prophetic Voices, an International Literary Journal