by Darryl Price
Save the whales. Save the dolphins. Save the bored housewives.
Save my hands, so often cupped over the sorrow in
being alive. Save the beautiful made-up cherries of delight
I feel everywhere in your presence. Save the sprawling landscapes
of late night cafeterias of the mind. Save the often
forgotten radios of our flying dreams. Save the hand-printed love
letters of early morning light. Save the inexhaustible curiosity of
a small interior poem of silence. Save the naked air.
Save the Spanish tongue of Neruda. Save the sparkle in
the brushstrokes of a Picasso. Save storm and the rainbow.
Save the North Sea. Save shadows. Save all hearts from
beginning to break again. Save the ripped apart sky from
the rain of so many angry bombs leaking inside. Save
the secret handshake. Save the Pandas. Save the sea turtles.
Save the roses. Save the last dance. Save the sailing
boats and floating planes of melting romance. Save whatever makes
no sense. Save this feeling. Save the butterflies with passionate,
provocative kisses. Save the question of imagination. Save the end
of the poem until you really need it. Save the
world from itself. Save your wild goodbyes. Save every word.
All rights reserved.
Why must we always save only the obvious things first, and aren't all things worth saving, if all things are part of the all? I don't mean to be confusing, it's just that when I started thinking about these things my heart tended to go out to the not so obvious things to save. There's a silent child in the crowd who hasn't yet found her voice, isn't quite ready to speak up and say,"save me." But you'll hear the plea if only you will listen.Please. That's not so much to ask.
How To Remember Important Things is now up at The Miscreant Issue 1 thanks to Amanda Harris.