I have not tired of the wilderness; rather I enjoy its beauty and the vagrant life I lead, more keenly all the time. I prefer the saddle to the streetcar and star sprinkled sky to a roof, the obscure and difficult trail, leading into the unknown, to any paved highway, and the deep peace of the wild to the discontent bred by cities….
Say that I starved; that I was lost and weary;
That I was burned and blinded by the desert sun;
Footsore, thirsty, sick with strange diseases;
Lonely and wet and cold…but that I kept my dream!
Excerpt from Finding Everett Ruess: The Life and Unsolved Disappearance of a Legendary Wilderness Explorer by David Roberts
By the grace of God, my darkness ended. Through night’s tunnel, my soul He tended. Through many nights and countless days, He held my hand; He led the way. He stroked my heart so soft, so tender, To my supplication He did render, An answer to my pleading prayer: “Give me strength, for if I am to bear Such heartache, anguish and blinding pain I’ll need shelter to weather this rain!” His shelter — Unconditional Love. Through His grace, I rose above. So, to all of those who cast a stone, or two, or three; I give forgiveness — my soul’s set free!
Abortions will not let you forget. You remember the children you got that you did not get, The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair, The singers and workers that never handled the air. You will never neglect or beat Them, or silence or buy with a sweet. You will never wind up the sucking-thumb Or scuttle off ghosts that come. You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh, Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.
I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim killed children. I have contracted. I have eased My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck. I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized Your luck And your lives from your unfinished reach, If I stole your births and your names, Your straight baby tears and your games, Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches, and your deaths, If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths, Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate. Though why should I whine, Whine that the crime was other than mine?— Since anyhow you are dead. Or rather, or instead, You were never made. But that too, I am afraid, Is faulty: oh, what shall I say, how is the truth to be said? You were born, you had body, you died. It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.
Believe me, I loved you all. Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved, I loved you All.
In the wilderness of self, I stand alone, A wanderer lost in the desert vast, With every step, my ego's shadow's grown, A golden calf, my idol unsurpassed. For in the mirror's gaze, I find my shrine, A reflection of my pride and vanity, In worship of the self, I've crossed the line, And lost the path to true divinity. Like the Israelites of old, I've gone astray, In search of solace in my own embrace, But, in the darkness of my selfish way, I've turned from God, and fallen from grace. To find the road to true worship once more, I must surrender to a higher power, Release the ego's grip that I adore, And in humility, bow in every hour. Oh, let me turn my gaze from self to God, And find redemption in His mercy broad.
He rode through the woods on a big blue ox, He had fists as hard as choppin’ blocks, Five hundred pounds and nine feet tall…that’s Paul.
Talk about workin’, when he swung his axe You could hear it ring for a mile and a half. Then he’d yell “Timber!” and down she’d fall…for Paul.
Talk about drinkin’, that man’s so mean That he’d never drink nothin’ but kerosene, And a five-gallon can is a little bit small…for Paul.
Talk about tough, well he once had a fight With a thunderstorm on a cold dark night. I ain’t sayin’ who won, But it don’t storm at all…round here…thanks to Paul.
He was ninety years old when he said with a sigh, “I think I’m gonna lay right down and die ‘Cause sunshine and sorrow, I’ve seen it all…says Paul.
He says, “There ain’t no man alive can kill me, Ain’t no woman ’round can thrill me, And I think heaven just mught be a ball”…says Paul.
So he died…and we cried.
It took eighteen men just to bust the ground, It took twenty-four more just to lower him down. And we covered him up and we figured that was all…for Paul.
But late one night the trees started shakin’, The dogs started howlin’ and the earth started quakin’, And out of the ground with a “Hi, y’all”…comes Paul!
He shook the dirt from off his clothes, He scratched his butt and wiped his nose. “Y’know, bein’ dead wasn’t no fun at all”…says Paul.
He says, “Up in heaven they got harps on their knees, They got clouds and wings but they got no trees. I don’t think that’s much of a heaven at all”…says Paul.
So he jumps on his ox with a fare-thee-well, He says, “I’ll find out if there’s trees in hell.” And he rode away, and that was all…we ever seen…of Paul.
But the next time you hear a “Timber!” yell That sounds like it’s comin’ from the pits of hell, Then a weird and devilish ghostly wail Like somebody’s choppin’ on the devil’s tail, Then a shout, a call, a crash, a fall– That ain’t no mortal man at all…that’s Paul!
This version of the poem is from Shel Silverstein’s book of poems for children, “Where the Sidewalk Ends” published in 1974.
I chose this poem as my first Friday Favorites because it is my all-time fav! Me and Paul Bunyan go back 45 years to Ms. Lewis’ 3rd grade class.
It was the 78-79 school year, and if I recall correctly, it was her first and last year teaching. She made it exciting to go to school. If we were good in class Monday through Thursday, Friday was a fun day. She would read to us from Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends. She would often let us choose the poem of the day, and more times than not, we chose Paul Bunyan.
I remember sitting there mesmerized as she read. She gave life to black words written on white pages. So much so that the words came to life in my imagination.
Every time I read this poem, like a time traveler, I am transported back in 1978, sitting cross-legged on the floor of a classroom at Avalon Elementary, alongside my classmates.
You know who you are: Karen, Louis, Scott, Tracey, Charles, Julie, David, Tommy, Jeff, Dusty, Kellie, Herman, Yolanda, Isis, Sandy, Lee, Ismael, Randy, Allison, Vicky, Nyna and Deanna. I can remember 22 out of 29 my classmates’ names and faces. Not bad all!
(For Her)SHE doesn’t stand tall
Because SHE has forgotten
That SHE is no longer
Constrained and downtrodden
By he that held her
Confined and caged
Because his mind was small
And he was stunted in age
SHE doesn’t stand tall
Because SHE has forgotten
All the work SHE put in
To grow and to blossom
So, I am here
To gently remind
Her, that SHE is
Radiant and kind
Beyond beautiful
Witty and smart
And last but not least
SHE is pure in heart
Simona A. Brinson
My Life In Word 