THE SHELL

IS IT JUST HIS DEATH THAT WE REMEMBER

IN THE GIVING OF THIS CUP

THIS SHELL THIS BAPTISMAL DEVICE

THIS GOLDEN SCALLOP

THAT SCOOPS UP WATER FROM THE FONT

AND TRICKLES IT DOWN OUR HEAD

AND CALL US TO BE CHRISTIAN

DO WE JUST REMEMBER HIS DEATH

OR MORE FOR IS NOT THE CUP A SYMBOL POOR

OF SOME GREAT WAVE THAT OVERWHELMS US

SPILLING US FROM OUR FEET

PLUNGING US INTO A VIOLENT SEA

BEATING PUMMELING CHOKING BRUISING

UNTIL WE STRUGGLE TO OUR FEET

GASPING AIR AS SOMETHING PRECIOUS

WILLING TO LIVE

A BETTER SYMBOL PERHAPS OF THAT TIME

WHEN ALL THAT WAS MY FATHER CEASED

AND ALL HE WANTED TO BE BECAME

A GOING AWAY AND COMING BACK

A SAYING OF HELLO -GOODBYE

TO CALL MY FATHER A SAINT

WOULD BE TO NOT REMEMBER HIM

BUT TO CALL HIM A MAN

WHO LAUGHED AND LONGED YEARNED AND DREAMED

WHO CRIED OUT OFTEN IN THE DARKNESS OF HIS BEING

WHO WAS OFTEN ANGRY HURT OR IN SOME PAIN

WHO LOVED WITH BOTH A LARGE AND NARROW HEART

WHO WANTED LOVE APPLAUSE AND OTHER MAN'S ESTEEM

WHO SAW DREAMS CRUMBLE IN HIS ALL THUMBS HAND

WHO CRIED OH GOD TELLS ME WHO I AM

THIS PICTURE OF A MAN WHO AS I GROW

BECOMES SURPRISINGLY JUST LIKE ME

THIS CUP IN WHOSE HOLLOW I CAN HEAR THE OCEAN'S ROAR

THIS SYMBOL OF AN OCEAN POOR

THIS GOING DOWN TO DEATH

TO BE CALLED BACK BY WATER

RUNNING LIKE RAINDROPS ON THE FACE

LIKE MY TEARS FALLING AS MY FATHER WENT

FOR REBIRTH

AND THE BEGINNING OF DREAMS

FRANK A VOLLMER