Hello Everyone,
News of the death of Jan Hawkins has challenged me once more to subdue th=
e
l'Etranger that the modern world so cultivates in us. I lack the insight=
s
to write a new poem, yet I dare not to let the moment simply be forgotten.
As something of a poet laureate to the group, I revisit this old friend a=
s
an offering to the mood. Like the feelings stirred up by such
circumstances - it offers no answers.
Peace to all those who knew Jan Hawkins and indeed to us all
Edouard
=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D
Between the Ivory Tower and the Streets
I set upon a voyage of discovery
with my eyes wide open and innocent.
Alas,who could have known that this journey
would have revealed a world of discontent.
How can those born with dreams of justice true
cope with a life where none of that will do?
To try to care and not let blindness be.
To see what most don=B9t find in front of them.
Alas, to perceive is not to be free.
We too are bought and sold for the cool gem.
No one seeks to hurt others in their name.
Still, that is power=B9s curious and cruel game.
To try to care calls back to Bethlehem. . .
Is caring rather like a requiem?
Edouard Lagache, April 13, 1995
(Sonnet 90)