A poet, Walt, in the year 2005,
from a world no longer harboring
survivors of the time in which you
sent your question on its journey
through future generations,
reaching me with the certain
impact that I would respond.
Poet, you knew your words were
capable of reaching through the ages;
that I would hear your voice, and be
infused with the same power of
imagination that allowed you, with
giant steps, to criss-cross the continent
we call home; and I would stride
by your side, from the Atlantic
to the Pacific, refreshing at its lakes,
and rivers, breathless, up its mountains,
then deep into its valleys,
and always, always, communicating
with all creatures, rich in diversity,
even unto this day, ever growing
multitudes of people and other living
forms, large and small,
the diversity of their joys and tears,
hopes and dreams, from
the shores of one Ocean
to the dunes and mountains
edging the other.
ahh, your ageless vigor gives me
the strength to match your stride.
I care nothing of your life that you
wish to hide, keep secret,
share with others than myself;
they are yours to treat as you wish.
The you that is in the words you
penned fill my head and heart
with your living presence, touch
the essence of my being, sound
the Shepard’s horn I hear, and to
which I respond for sustenance to
carry on the expression of whatever
message it is that I must deliver
before the ether world claims my pen;
and then, like you, seek my immortality
in the question,
Who is it that is now reading this?
Oh… Walt,
my love for you has never been a secret.
I have blazoned it to all who would listen,
all who were in need of love and reason to
carry on their daily lives:
Oh Captain, my Captain,
There are times, more often in recent years,
when your words provide the energy that
drives my tired hand on, again, and again.
Mmmm, yes friend,
your grand illusions, your ego, are the
emanations of your shadow that shades
my eyes when I cannot look directly
at the bright light that flows from your vision.
And, thank you, for your steadfastness,
for always being who you are,
so that my vision, with ease,
encompasses your physical being.
Yes, I do care.
And, I am puzzled at you,
as I am puzzled at myself,
at the multitude of my unrequited needs,
the depth of my angers and frustrations,
my impatience with my fellows,
and especially my inability to find my core.
My friend,
your self-conviction, derision,
conscience, guilt, are the stuff
which humanizes a god,
that does not fully level him,
but firmly plants his feet
in the earth, leaving footprints
in which I am invited to follow.
It is a level on which I comfortably
share a sense of equality that allows
me, with love, to answer my Mentor,
who writes to,
Poets to come…..
to me, for I am of them,
I am of all who create with words
or music, and I hear your plea to
justify you,
and answer what you were for,
warning me,
that it is in my creations,
through my todays and tomorrows,
that your future is assured.
I see the wryness in your smile;
for you have created a palette
encompassing all art, all creativity.
As I dwell on your words,
and your invitation to digest,
to narrow my thoughts
to your
one or two indicative
words for the future
and bring you out of your self
imposed darkness,
I am beguiled by your subtlety.
Be patient with your expectations,
for you are always the Giant
who averts his face, inviting
me to follow, to disprove your
Leadership, through a future
from which you can
leap-frog my tomorrow.
Walt, it is here that I must take my leave,
thank you for what you have shared with me
and move on in directions that are my own.
But, do not fret, my friend, for I shall find you
new disciples to teach, and with and through them,
I shall return for visits, to reminisce and share that
which becomes our future, our vision into tomorrow.
Evans C. Reitman-Swiss
5/21/05 – 7/23/05
