Poems and a children's book excerpt by Marc Harshman

By Staff reports

Read about Marc Harshman here. THESE for Jerry  
These are not lucky charms. These are bits of bone and sinew. Home from the war, he pressed them into my hand. I said, "thanks," and he walked away. Far away he had been. Steep valleys, hot mountains of war, highs  
  • tolen when the moon was bright
  •   and the enemy shy. "See," he once said on leave, "there won't be much left of me." I know
    that now, holding his hand in mine, charms are not enough. Prayer  
  • ames names. We try them. One
  •   after another. Repeat after each, "Lord, have mercy, Lord, Lord . . .  ."
    Names have memories. I wear his now. Pray them as if he hears.  (Forthcoming in the "Anglican Theological Review")  

    ••• "Only One"   There may be a million stars But there is only one sky.   There may be fifty thousand bees But there is only one hive.

      There may be five hundred seeds But there is only one pumpkin.   [Then the book runs through smaller numbers, 12 to the end, the last 2 stanzas being as follows:]   There may be two ropes But there is only one swing.   But the best thing of all Is that there is only one me And there is only one you.   The opening lines of "Only One" published by Cobblestone/Dutton [division of Penguin USA] in 1993, illustrated by Barbara Garrison.   

    ••• CHECKING THE SPRING   Up from the house, west, a few hundred feet, where the ridge hat of poplar, maple,  

  • weet gum and red haw fills with a dry wind,
  •   we force a clutch of bramble, wild rose and blackberry, and through them slip down the hard bank of pale grasses to the green stones and stand by the thin, sure sound of water, still there, August, and running.  First appeared in "Turning Out the Stones, a chapbook from State Street Press, NY, 1983
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