You believe in open society, big dreaming and serendipity! You got perspective - a rock cairn with prayer flags. What did it take to pack up home and family, to travel treacherous miles - thousands, to be a stranger in a partisan land? This is the story of your grandmothers, your story too, without the peril. Bold hearts learn to swim with trouble. At 12, your Yankee mother sent you to join the school walk out of Southern Segregation. You were happy to buck the system, happy for new friends. Fraternizing with these kids fattened a fringe - cushioned the mean gibes of local cliches and clans. You linked arms, to carry a fine truth dancing between you: Life is unkind, life is a mission, life is a mercy. Your mother was sixteen when the H-bomb dropped on Hiroshima. Did New England air shake with wails that ricocheted across the night from Nippon to Narragansett? The sirens and howls, the hungry ghosts when they nipped the Nipponese. At sixte
Kinetic Poetry - Subject to change without warning.