Charlie

In a previous post, I mentioned having written a poem for a comrade who had died. This was back in 1987, but that comrade still influences my attitude towards political work and activity. His name was Charlie McCaffrey. This was the poem:

We stand like red gums
at the river’s edge;
witness to his silent passing.
branched arms outstretched…
reaching…
unable to touch.

Man-river,
old man river.
no shallow traps.
no hidden snags,
no currents of treachery,
only life flowing strongly,
vastly,
deeply,
but flowing…

Oh, we saw his anger –
like a torrent in flood;
satisfaction –
like a pond at dusk;
laughter –
like a morning stream.

With the river’s passing
the bed is dry.
Dry and waiting,
waiting for younger waters,
already poised,
taking up where he left off,
anticipating the distant promise of thunder
and the cleansing of the rain.