Last Revision: Aug 22 June 11 Aug 22 June 11 ****************************************************************************************************
NAME A CLOUD AFTER ME . . .
. . . you know, one of those clouds which grows from nothing on a late summer afternoon, soon pummels the ground below with rain, hoping, even if in vain, to spawn its tornado, leave thereby some lasting mark upon the earth before vanishing into a nighttime sky.
For among those who measure themselves on the time-scale of clouds—most producing no more than a cooling breeze, do not squeeze out even a single drop of rain— such a storm must be the great one, long to be admired, and remembered.
Which is why, as I attempt to pummel the earth, spawn a tornado which may leave some lasting mark, this appeal goes out to any one of you who measure yourselves on the time scale of humanity:
If, by any chance, you have felt the attempt of my lightning, pay me this small tribute on some summer afternoon while watching a thunderhead create itself, out of nothing. Name it after me—even if, for all of the others, I may produce nothing more than a gentle breeze—felt on its appointed day, before vanishing, forever, into a nighttime sky.
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[On April 13, 2010, I listened to a radio broadcast of the third story recounted below and conceived this poem. Later the same day I heard an interview with Alice Walker about her new book, Overcoming Speechlessness. This verse is dedicated to Alice Walker--SB.]
TODAY I HEARD THE NEWS
Today I heard the news: Earthquake victims in Haiti victimized again by earthquake relief. And there is nothing I can do but write these words.
Today I heard the news: Dozens die, explosion, West Virginia mine. Hundreds of safety violations left uncorrected. And there is nothing I can do but offer you these lines.
Today I heard the news: Pakistani women defaced in acid attacks; husbands and in-laws face the minimum. And I decide I will compose a poem,
believing still that if each human being who hears the news (I mean, who really hears the news) provides us with just a few words or a few lines,
together we might compose that poem which proves, at last: There really is something we can do.
"I have enjoyed Steve Bloom's poetry for many years. It shows a true and loyal heart (hard to come by these days), and, of course, an anti-authoritarian politic (also in short supply)"—Lynne Stewart, NYC activist attorney.
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