Emerging

While I was musing in my rocking chair, I started thinking about my childhood, living in a small city by the Mississippi River. In those days in that small city, one could look up at the stars and actually see them. Where I live now you can't do that. There is too much stuff in the air to let the lights of the stars shine through. But there were other things to do. Play was not organized by the adult world and children were left to their own to do whatever they could find to do.

Emerging

Lying on my back in the grass
wet from the night dew
looking at the Milky Way
wisps of lights up in the sky
wondering what they are.

A night hawk screams overhead,
bats dart after bugs I cannot see:
too young to think about it all
soon to be called into bed.

The morning sun is hot
bare feet on concrete
walking in grass as I can,
wondering what to do all day
while looking for my friends.

It's Summer, there is no school,
no homework or a time to study.
We have a few chores and the rest of the day
is ours to enjoy with our play.

Will we have enough players
for a ball game,
or we can get on our bikes to fish
on the banks of the Mississippi
where we can explore cast off
boats rotting on the shore.

Maybe we will ride into the woods
out of town to that old shack,
the one we found by Sugar Creek
across the railroad tracks.
Or ride to the ball bark
sneak in to watch the Gems play.

If we can't do any of that,
we can play mumbly peg
in the dirt by the street.
You know, I kind of wish
we were back in school

Paul Wolf 11/3/09

Holocaust Museum

Hi readers,

We went to the holocaust museum in Skokie,IL and this is my reflection on that visit.

Genocide

A boxcar sits alone
Empty
The door open for all to see.
An old car
made of rough, wooden boards and steel
Foreboding

Enter and the boards scream
sounds you never want to hear.
Ears are punctured with the sounds.
Captured

The boards stink
with the smell of human waste
sweat, urine, feces.
Overwhelming

The boards have faces
Crowded
Gaunt, with eyes terrified
wondering if they will die.
Pleading eyes, pointing eyes.

Empty

Paul Wolf, 10/6/09

What Do You Say?

What do you say to your God when you pray
not in a Church, or a Mosque or a Shul.
When you're at home or go out for a walk,
possibly dreaming on the side of a hill.
What do you say? "God, are you having a good day."

Do you talk to Him like a good friend
or in such awe you don't talk at all,
either way, what do you say?

What do you say when you feel blessed
everything going the right way.
You're healthy and strong in the midst of your family.
What do you say when you pray?
"God, it is truly a lovely day.

What do you say when things go black,
your soul is empty, you're all alone
sitting with Job on that hill of dung.
What do you say? "God, I curse your day."

When everthing is bleak, full of despair,
only then can thoughts enlighten your mind,
and echos like something you have never heard.
And so you know why you're alive.

Then you can say when you pray
to your God that day,
"I understand, I'll do my best
as well as I can.

Paul J. Wolf

The Water Mocassin

A Water Mocassin slithered through a pond
deadly as it approached its prey.
Down into the depths it swam to kill
eating all it came upon.
It seemed it would grow large and strong
destroyin all life in that small pond.

A young man came to the shore
to fish with his rod and reel.
The fish came to his bate,
along with that deadly snake
which attacked the young man
who took a hefty board
and bashed it on its head.

So the snake no longer lived
to feed upon the fish.
Life in the small pond
was spared that wondrous day.

However, there will always be
a fear wihin that pond.
Death can just as easily appear
some summer day when no one
is aware and consume the life
that is there.

Paul J. Wolf

Long Time

Dear Readers,

I know I haven't written any poetry lately or published any. I have had a bit of a battle with cancer. I have won round one and will start writing more in the near future. Give me a week or two more.

Paul

Struggle

I wrote this as a comment on stuggle. Struggle with belief systems, not a thesis on theology. As you can tell from my biograph, I am a person immersed in religion. So I write about it.

Through The Years

Through the years I wondered why
Jesus chose to die the way he did?
I know the reasons faith gives
about our sins and sacrifice,
salvation of the human race,
the way Romans punished crime.

God died that day upon the cross
in excruciating pain, a bloody death
Why would he choose to die that way?

I know by faith he rose from the dead
to spread his teachings throughout the earth
for centuries to come until the end
for all mankind to emulate
embracing death instead of fear.

Through the years I wondered why
so many people on this earth
have never heard of his death
or don't believe he died.
What of those people
in other univers,
will they be saved as well?

I have so many questions
about our life, death and
what happens at the end.
I don't know what to think
I am told to just believe.
It is hard as Thomas knows.

Through the years
I have strggled
with all this
doing the best I can.
I know the answer lies
in how I treat my fellow men,
who stand with me
before a loving God.

Paul Wolf 5/10/09

Waiting

If you have had the experience in the poem, "Medical Test", then you will have had the following experience.

The Phone Call

Have you ever felt death's shadow
sitting beside you,
trying to hold your hand
like a lover you reject.
Persistent.

You wait and wait
days and hours pass,
hoping it will disappear.
Knowing all along
a single call, the right words
will banish it to some other dark place.

You hope and hope that call will come.
Wait! It could be the message
that marries you to the frightful specter.
You don't know and you won't
until the phone rings.

Paul Wolf, 4/30/09