Footprints of Life

My first picture,
this new gift from God.
Mom's hazel eyes, Daddy's ears.
A blissful essence,
future lofty dreams, no unseen fears.

A cute toddler, blonde curly hair,
tumbles like a puppy,
dimpled wrinkled knees,
no sense of gravity.
For love, a smile is the key.

Mom discovers a lump.
I touch her warm tears.
"Precious, all will be okay,
you see, a special doctor
cuts deep, taking death away."

We move South.
Parades are white robes.
Crosses burn, my heart hurts.
Perhaps God doesn't love all people.
Little black girls die in Sunday skirts.

I ask Mom impossible questions.
"Why does a country want to hurt us?"
We squat under desks; soldier tags on.
"Why do we kill other people?"
I study hate; picking daisies on our lawn.

We bury a beloved President.
Days of tears, people glued to TV sets.
Our nation begins to heal.
The "Vietnam Conflict" comes along.
An Asian death struggle with a Presidential seal.

A boy I love fights in a cruel jungle.
Letters flow; poems of passion, future plans.
His friends die by poison Punji sticks.
It is a conflict like no other. My Dad can't relate.
In World War II, a rifle did the death trick.

Dick comes back a haunted man.
Dismembered children dance in dreams.
Drugs fill the hole for heinous crimes.
I must march; protest this war,
robbing our young men of their minds.

I ride a train of time too fast.
College, career, marriage, children,
a huge house mortgage, lots of fluff.
Stumbling blocks, crazy clock,
little time to care for important stuff.

Now here I am, nearing sixty.
I did the sports car, divorce, younger guy.
Married again. Who runs this crazy race?
A conscious life means giving love.
Do other "semi-sane" people play charades?

The world needs a positive stage.
Who all did I hurt along the way?
Did I show those I love how much I do?
What did I accomplish to help others?
I hope time drifts slowly for a special dream to come true.


Harry Chapin sang,
"Dreams are for when you are young."




By Kathie Stehr
edited Valentine's Day 2011