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PostPosted: Wed Oct 03, 2007 10:18 pm 
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Joined: Tue Jan 03, 2006 11:41 am
Posts: 1231
Aruba Wind Dried His Eyes

Long ago when cars numbered less than fifty
When smelling like sweat and salt was a good thing
When closets never held more than three garments per person
When shoes were bought by the color and not the size
When shaving with yesterdays shaving water made the blade slide better
When “Rocking Chairs” were prized possessions
When saying “hello” was the start of a conversation and not just a greeting
When fish were eaten and not “prized”
When the elderly were considered wise and not old
When (if you got sick) you went to the old lady that lives in the hills
When receiving a letter was cause for a reunion of family and then friends

During those times - Long ago and on this island - Lived a wise man – he was elderly
His life partner and friends knew him so well – They knew his strengths and weaknesses
This man thought of his children - Off far away in Panama
Four days by boat (not 1 hour by plane)
He thought of their misfortune – not being here on Aruba
They lived in cities of at least one thousand other souls – It must be stifling

On soft nights - this man chanted his children’s names - Almost a moan
You could hear him - He would say
Come back to us - We are alone
Here, not there - We are your home
The small hills miss you and the cacti have no-one to prick
The birds have no one to sing to and your dog no longer barks at night sounds
Crystal clear waters miss your splashing and the dirt road is without your prints

On soft nights - this man chanted his children’s names - Almost a moan
He wept softly at receiving their letters - They were read to him by others
He read not - His wisdom did not permit it

And to maintain his pride – he went to the small hill in back of his home
And there - All alone with his island and its elements
Friends and family looked on – yet pretended not too
And
The wind dried his eyes

October 03, 2007
Be well
charles


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