John Ormond, Welsh Poet, Speaks
(to one of Welsh ancestry)
Third Place, 1980 Poetry Contest
Today I feel I meet you once again;
Your words emerge like Stonehenge from a vast
and unremembered moment on a plain
like Salisbury, or nearer, in my own past.
Your mind in solstice moves beyond your days,
old, as is Wales, perplexing in its lure.
By very fact of being it denies
the death of deathless Owen of Glendwyr.
And when you speak, my father looks at me,
small and Welsh and he agnostic too,
but full of light as sunrise sky can be,
and deathless, even while he died,
as all the living, pulsing past I see in you.
She Shall Be Praised (Prov. 31:25–31)
How does he count
the lonely hours
When she’s away?
How does he measure happiness
When he receives her welcome home
At close of day?
And when the crisis comes
And he, with bared head
And clenched fist
Confronts the world alone
She stands one step behind
And whispers “Courage”
In his ear.
Without her he is one alone
Amidst the throng;
With her he is as though
Ten thousand strong.