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| Detail from “The School of Athens” a fresco by Raphael (1483 – 1520) [Click image to call up all published instalments] |
Back in Indiana, there used to be a guy who would walk from downtown Indianapolis up Meridian Street and Highway 31 out of the metro area. Somewhere up north he turned around and made the long trek back.
It was the image of that man that inspired this poem, which I set in New York City. What always impressed me about the little time I spent there was the variety of people you could encounter in just a small area, such as Central Park.
For me, with my religious upbringing, this poem pretty much sums up how I try to live my life. I respect the opinions and beliefs of others, but have decided to explore my own path, trying my best to do good toward all. You are never really going to please everybody, but perhaps a little respect for all who walk their own avenues will allow this blue-green planet to turn with less turbulence.
Seventh Avenue Jesus
He came my way today,
that Seventh Avenue Jesus,
dragging his burden while
crossing 57th
on his way to save the park.
I stepped in and
took up his load
as he spoke of
sins and salvation,
death and eternal life
above clouds
I could not see through
in the dearth of my faith,
among the shadows and steel
of this cold, cold city.
He asked how long
it had been since I prayed.
I thought
you yourself would know
the sinner cannot ask forgiveness
if he cannot forgive himself.
I silently shrugged under the weight.
He blessed me
as we approached 59th
and I hefted back his cross.
"Come join me,"
his blues beckoned to mine,
but I was already turning
and three steps away,
running behind on my own path.
Later,
I would drop a five in the cup
of the Buddha down on Broadway,
share a sandwich with Muhammad,
take a tract from Jehovah
in the shade of the Marriott
and consider it a good day.
The atheist on the corner
wonders why did I bother,
the jaywalking agnostic,
why should he care?
| Copyright © 2023 by Maik Strosahl Michael E. Strosahl has focused on poetry for over twenty years, during which time he served a term as President of the Poetry Society of Indiana. He relocated to Jefferson City, Missouri, in 2018 and currently co-hosts a writers group there. |
Maik, wondrous! Made my afternoon of March 5, the day I received your submission.
ReplyDeleteI hope author Tom Harley (aka Tom Sheepandgoats) sees this.
If Maik has in mind a Witness from Indianapolis, tell him I knew one who would do exactly that in Rochester. He would leave his home at the edge of the city, walk downtown and back, and speak to everyone he encountered along the way.
ReplyDeleteTom emailed me:
ReplyDeleteThank you, Morris. Hope and Maik are well. Here is my recent nod to philosophy: "Jesus and Socrates—the Parallels" [January 9, 2023].
I read Tom's essay straightaway, and I am pleased to be able to recommend it to the Moristotelians and their readers. It reminds me to cherish my pride in having chosen my moniker in homage to Aristotle, who was a one-on-one student of Plato, who was a one-on-one student of Socrates. Also pride in being my mother's son, my mother who passed on Jesus' love to me, who have adopted it, as Maik, too, has adopted Jesus' love. What goes around comes around.
Thank you for the kind words and I thoroughly enjoyed Tom’s piece that you linked in—may have idea developed later just from that. I do like the idea that Tom knew of someone who walked many miles in Rochester. I would bet he also has walked many a mile. I remember those days too. The guy in Indianapolis did his trek at least a couple times a year. I never talked to him, but saw him in different places thru town and at least once not too far south of Kokomo—I was amazed at the distance he covered. I always wondered if he ever continued up 31 all the way to South Bend and the Notre Dame campus.
ReplyDeletePerfect ending to a really good poem.
ReplyDelete