JAN OSKAR HANSEN

The Sole Survivor

The little girl in the basement
of a bombed out house, 
whispers a lullaby and asks 
God's forgiveness for hitting 
her smaller brother. Voices,
someone's digging, a shaft 
of light and friendly hands 
lift her up. She cries and tells 
the man that she didn't mean 
to slap him so hard…'There, 
there, the man says, it wasn't 
your fault.' She asks:' Where 
is mum, dad and me brother?'
The man doesn't answer but
hands her over to a nurse who
gives her water to drink and
wraps her in a blanket.

copyright 2003 JAN OSKAR HANSEN

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JOEL L. YOUNG

A Thousand Roads To Wander

- Annotating Thomas Wolfe -

If you look backward angel 
you've wandered a thousand different roads 
travelled a thousand more 
made a million promises 
and lived a hundred lives 
took to dreaming in technicolor. 
Still, all the roads led back home. 

You can go home again, go! 
Stay, visit, see the roads in the ol' hometown 
where chapel floors creak of gospel hymns 
and bottom rivers soak mud into memories 
made fresh daily in the spring of your youth. 
You might find something new. 

Sure there were pretty girl flirtations 
mud fights, and fisticuffs, laughs on the paths 
beer runs, and camp-outs looking at the stars. 
Drag racing, football games, 
and odd jobs, and prom night fiascoes 
falling asleep under the bleachers. 
Okay, not all the memories were good. 

Yeah, you followed different trails, 
traveled a thousand of them 
wandered their highways & byways 
tasted pie from a thousand different window sills 
spent nights in muggy motels 
writing notes from a million lives you met 
each with a poem or a story to tell. 

Look homeward angel, come back home 
stay for a while, see the folks, look up old friends 
drop by the old schoolyard, and share a memory or two. 
Say hello to the girl next door, who loved you. 
Maybe you'll have something in common now. 

There'll be a thousand more roads to wander 
Thomas Wolfe still in your head telling you where to go. 
He didn't say all the roads lead back home. 
Nothing's ever the same, 
the town's still got dreams to give 
with inspiration, love and hope to spare. 

The door is always open, 
Greyhound station down the street with busfare for two, 
a lifetime to dream again 
and wander a thousand different roads. 
Write about them this time. 
Inspire more angels to wander as they inspired you. 

Their roads will lead back to you. 

copyright 2003 JOEL L. YOUNG