A Poet痴 Song in the Marketplace

Fellow-pilgrim, brother, sister, these words are not for sale.
They spring from a primeval source of light and sound,
rise through the rock and sand of buried civilizations,
speak the language of altars, bones, and well-worn roads,
recall the broken backs of men and the urgent
whispering of wings, praise women for giving birth
to magic, flesh, and dreams, forgive our heinous crimes,
weave a carpet where we tread, smile at the arrogance of kings,
add fragrance to despair, then disperse like mist upon the wind.

Fellow-pilgrim, brother, sister, these words are not for sale.
They bear the seeds of wisdom, pomegranate, fig, and lemon,
the olive rows in ancient groves like streets where houses stand,
wheat fields ripen to its chant, yearn for hearth, die as bread,
their grapes are pressed for wine to hail the cross where Jesus bled,
roll back the stone, retrieve the dead, make the silent speak,
bless the poor, heal the weak, and comfort those who know
the children crying in their sleep, the ground their fathers tend,
give their mothers strength and hope, melt to earth then sprout again.

Fellow-pilgrim, brother, sister, these words are not for sale.
Will you exchange them for some bread, that I may live a while more?
Will you bring me food to eat and wine to drink, or leave me here alone?
Will you help me mend my shoes and bury my beloved dead?
Will you mock my presence here, or show your faith in man?
Fellow-pilgrim, brother, sister, I ask you once again.
These words are not for sale, but is that a crime or sin?
Brother, sister, I am knocking. Will you let me in?
These words are not for sale, but I am still a man. I am still a man.

May 8, 2005

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Also by William Michaelian

Winter Poems

ISBN: 978-0-9796599-0-4
52 pages. Paper.
Another Song I Know
ISBN: 978-0-9796599-1-1
80 pages. Paper.
Cosmopsis Books
San Francisco

Signed copies available

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