WALT WHITMAN DROPS BY

In the Civil War of brothers
not embarrassed to be here
in Virginia
encouraging the wounded souls
where still bleeding soldiers rest
upon makeshift hospital beds
reading Walt Whitman
whom like a miracle drops by
as the early April snow dries
on the roads there is still ice
now their guest comforts the sick
as an American poet will light up
every translated spirit in the room
from his enlarged empowered eyes
transfigured from far off highways
he travels alone as a witness
knowing all are painfully young
his fated words never outdated
with no coward's sacrifice
in a deep poetic voice we atone
for those who witness death
among the scattered gravestones
and see their own deaths twice
for such is a war's terrible sacrifice
on the surly warring battlefield
of barren darkness and gloom
yet devoured with clay images
with stony path by unsung tombs.

Today whether we are under
Paris' sun or stars, or Belgium
or Boston's marathon or
in Japan or at Jerusalem,
a pacifist poet proclaims
his international verse
like bearded Whitman
with extended arms for peace
knowing we too
are part of one chain
of light to release
for if one is hurt
than we are all stained
under the darkness
of an unlit lamp of liberty,
whether you are by a fireplace
of forest wood
or hear the blasting from
shadows and shade
we still welcome Walt Whitman
to pass by
with his "Blades of Grass"
to make our neighbors
to at least understood his life
of reaching out American hands
over choice mountain ranges
in the Ganges of India or Burma
on heights or eddy of Afghanistan
or by the fountains of Istafan
or ports of San Francisco
by Fort Hood or San Bernardino
or whatever neighborhood
we still need Whitman to comfort us
in the spirit of a dream voiced poet
beyond any penny dreadful
bending from his knees by the bed
of veterans in loving imagery
for all races who long to be free
here among the wonderful branches
on twigs on every country's trees
we will pause for those in need
as we listen to their suffering
caused by war, hunger or poverty
with his comforting words uttered
by the screens of a narrow bed
masked only by a curtain
cast by first light in our shed
with whatever consuming cause
to save our harrowing lives
from whoever is arraigned at fault
we rise in his ordained presence
along Walt's chosen path
near the still river's nearness,
as we let his fine voice be with those
who survive to deliver us
from all of man's salty wrath
as his poetry still bathes
in a wide bird chorus of eternity,
we too can be recognized
by his fiery baptized speech
as he still searches us out today
to reach and realize the near divine
of all humanity
as a mourning dove sings on the Bay
for us in our worthy time
of widening a way
from every awakened breath
we too can be wisely divine
like our Lazarus or St. Francis
in the litany of the church
as God asks us merely to love
on earth as bread and wine.