“ONE’S-SELF I sing—a simple, separate Person.” Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
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For Zabaida on her 98th birthday.
Maybe next time around …
NO-BALONEY SANDWICHES
by
Jamie Dedes
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This is dedicated to all those fine beings . . .
Those who are blatantly themselves
You know the ones I mean –
Some, when seedlings, had folks
who jabbed a finger yelling: You! You! You!
accusing them of being quintessentially themselves
. . . as though that was wrong.
They are the YOUs who come from multi-colored places
and varied dreams
with hearts woven of wonderlush.
They are womanish or manish.
They are childlike and adultish.
They run from the gray streets to the green forest.
They take to long-lost roads and never-found pathways
with their song in a backpack and
a brown-bag lunch of no-baloney sandwiches.
When they elder they arrive back at the beginning
knowing who are they are
. . . and why.
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© 2012, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved
Photo credit ~ Jon Sullivan’s “Woman on the Beach”
The BeZine 