Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25
The nights were deathly quiet. We never saw
the underclass at dark. Invisible deeds,
professionally drawn by cordial men, kept
our slumber safe, our world a safe cocoon.
Depression-haunted parents pampered us
into the sixties. The gaunt face of poverty
that fueled their fears was one we never knew.
The class of 1960 naturally believed
in privileged wealth, believed in dread pursuits
of dry-as-dust at top professional schools.
Our dreams were so intense before the dawn,
before the day enhanced our consciousness.
From out of the comfortable night we faced the sun.
At long last we were forced to cope with light.
NOTE: I wrote this poem in 1990 for my classmates. It was our 30th reunion.
Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
November 12, 2023