Let Them In

by John Gorka 

On this Veteran's Day, my favorite stunning song by John Gorka. Youtube version here.

"Let Them In" was made into song by John Gorka from a poem found in a hospital in the Philippines during World War II. The nurse that found the poem kept it all these years until the recent war brought out all the memorabilia. Luckily, her daughter sent a copy to John. 

Let them in, Peter

They are very tired

Give them couches where the angels sleep

And light those fires

Let them wake whole again

To brand new dawns

Fired by the sun not wartime's

Bloody guns

May their peace be deep

Remember where the broken bodies lie

God knows how young they were

To have to die

God knows how young they were

To have to die

So give them things they like

Let them make some noise

Give dance hall bands not golden harps

To these our boys 

And let them love, Peter

For they've had no time

They should have trees and bird songs

And hills to climb

The taste of summer in a ripened pear

And girls sweet as meadow wind

With flowing hair

And tell them how they are missed

But say not to fear

It's gonna be alright

With us down here

Let them in, Peter

Let them in, Peter

Let them in, Peter

© John Gorka, all rights reserved

Foreign Objects

Sometimes...

sometimes this life is a foreign object to me.

It's like something shiny but odd-looking,

that one comes across on the beach.

You pick it up

- two fingered because of the sand and the muck -

And notice right away that there's that one wicked sharp edge...

too sharp, in fact -

to smooth with the fat skin of your thumb.

But by using the edge of that soft old warm sweatshirt,

protection is gained as well as a glorious and unexpected sheen.

Thus pocketed, the mysterious find is safeguarded amongst agates, sand dollars, purple lint and torn grocery lists that you saved because the last item read:

"and I love you, my darling."

november 2010 © martha lee phelps

The Way It Is

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change.  But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

 

~ William Stafford ~