There is a snowy field
behind the school,
at Columbine,
where dreams and
flowers fell-
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where crosses broke a slender sky,
and clouds were held
by thirteen souls,
and two,
who struggled in the mists
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Snow
came that day, too late
to soften such hard blows,
but how it fell!
White tears of ice,
in beauty came,
to fill the silent gasp.
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Darkness flows,
I am drawn toward
the ragged sky-
an empty, lightless thing
a shadow against the Universe-I cry:
"come back and I will hold you all;
we will find the nation's heart and
hover there-
come back into the fragrant air
and have a newer spring, fresher than
the snow!"
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I asked the plaintive sky:
"what did you see today?
were kinder children playing-
was every river running
were all the young men hugging
is anger washed away?"
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-to the hills I called:
"why are these snowfields trampled
and rainbows come unwoven,
the loved ones all so crumpled-
how can this silence find a song?"
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In future springs
the columbines will rise
as they have always done
compassionate,
a softer sun
reminding us of lives
and swiftness
-beauties gone;
just above this very field, some spirits come
first, the two
then five,
and more are seen
then, all fifteen-
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to find the fragile flowers, they have come
-then each heart is opened by the bloom
and how forgivenss flows
and how the rivers run-
and we are humbled,
low.
When all is done, they turn
with shimmered sun
like crystal things
each holding each,
gleaming
run,
dancing through The Garden of the Gods-
then on.
-- J. Ketchum
April 20-30, 1999
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Spirits of Goodness
