"The day Clark Gable died"

When I was a boy of only eight
Not knowing the meaning
Of the word 'segregate'
My father decided to take me with him
On a plane where he promised
A 3-D movie and a fishing voyage on a boat
Little did I think of lessons to be learned
In the unfolding of this anecdote
I tag this memory to the newspaper headlines
The day that Clark Gable died
My father explained this man was
Until I was satisfied
There was a lay over in the city of Atlanta
I watched the planes go by in the air
Listening to announcements
Watching people go by quickly
As a boy I became slowly aware
When asking my father if I could go to the bathroom
He instructed me to return
Little did I know what would be ahead
Or of what I was about to learn
As I approached the door I was stopped
By an old grey haired black man coming out
He discouraged my entrance through that door
Then I began to question why with a pout
My father seeing the situation
Quickly came to my side
Questioning the man about the problem
With tears in his eyes he replied
He doesn't know the difference
Pointing to the sign on the door
It read "Colored Men" with letters wide
My father directed me to the other place
Where I was supposed to be
After returning to his side
I could clearly see
My father was trying to console the man
Assuring him that someday he would be free
~
This man wore a white shirt with suspenders
I wish I had learned his name
I remember looking up at him in his pain
Tears in his eyes in his withered tired frame
My father parted with sadness
The man continued to cry
My father explained about dignity
As I watched the planes in the sky
Reminding me to remember the color of his skin
Made no difference-he was just a man
That he still had a heart within
We continued our trip to Miami
But I thought of the man and his tears
I still think of him to this very day
After almost fifty years
~
We went on the boat
I got seasick
We went to the 3-D movie
I caught a cold
From the newfangled air conditioning
That had just been invented
The 3-D glasses gave me a headache
We left the movie before it had finished
I left Miami totally dissapointed
Then after many years I realized
The purpose of the trip to Miami
Was that image burned into my mind
Of the man in Atlanta who was crying
Thereby I was able to find
The true course of my heart
I will never forget the lesson taught
Human dignity belongs to everyone
It is something that needs not to be bought
From the lowest creature
To the tallest human
In those famous words
Let freedom ring
It is the melody I learned as a boy
Of eight years old
The song I continue to sing

~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Within Myself"

My body is my shell
This is the child
Who lives within the shell
Devoid of any emotions
Surviving in my own hell
Dependent on others
Like a store bought doll
My eyes only open on command
My heart stolen in the tender years
Buried deep in the sand
Muffled sounds of the ocean
Seashells move over my grave
Perhaps I will be discovered some day
In the breaking of the ocean wave
Longing to hear the voice of the gulls
The crashing of waves
Salt water foam upon the shores
The shining sun that saves
Sweet warmth will shower me
It will heal my tender heart
Though there be scars that will always remain
My soul will never depart
I will once again be free to grow
To catch my dreams upon the flow
My life will be back in my own hands
Where I will endeavor to see distant lands

~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"I cry for you"

This is the voice that will never be heard
In flights way are those fleeting feet
I shall never hear them upon the floor
It is a face that I will never adore
It is held in a palm of the hand
Of what it is and never was
The quenching of a spark
In the flicker before the flame
A sight seen but never meant to be
I have many tears for you
On this day and many days after
When I look up at the sun
It will be dull to me
The moon will never shine
Of all the many stars that sparkle
None will ever gain my notice
Muddy colored clouds are upon me forever
It is a loss that will never be gained
I throw myself upon the ground
Sending woes up to the deafness of the sky
Deprivation of your presence
Causes me to choke on my own salivas
The deep wound upon my own heart vexes me so
I long to hear the hearbeat that was meant to be
Raising my hands up high in my cries
I mourn the loss placed upon me
In your life that shall never be

~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Unheard Cries"

With factory precision
The kiln glowed
Smoke billowed from the stacks
Down below fires raged
Being fed by human slaves
Engaging in the act
Involuntary servitude demanded
Lest they become victims
To the unforgiving ovens
There they watched a race destroyed
Despising their captors
In the space of a dark void
Hearing the feet on their way to the chambers
The chambers of death
Where their cries went unheard
Upon many deaf ears
Soon they would become silent
In the ending of their fears
In the chambers of death
The last final gasping breath
Before their bones were baked
In the ovens
Their ashes spread
Mingled together forever
In a place where only evil remains
Eventually returning to the earth
In death defying blessed rains
Scattered they may be
Remembered so that they remain free
In their sacrifice and pain
Blessed be the death defying rain

~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Birth of my Sister"

When my sister was born
I used to watch her
Sleeping alone in her crib
The mobile danced about in the sunlight
Packed away in the attic
I still have her baby bib
It has a yellow chicken embroidered
That runs towards a house and the sun
I've often wondered why I have kept it
Since her life had begun
My mother let me feel her kicking
Deep in her belly she stirred
It was an emotional shock to me
I imagined her as the Thunderbird
To know that a life was thriving inside
Many nights I laid awake in thought
A work had been done to bring this forth
A miracle that had been wrought
In the later times I looked at her feet
Remembering the way she had kicked
To the effect it had worked something in me
My heart had been slightly pricked
Thereafter was this odd connection
The memory of something that came
From the belly of my long gone mother
The connection to which I must claim

~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved