(An International Journal of Poetry)
ISSN 2249 –2178
Volume-3 DECEMBER -2013 Number-2
EULOGY FOR A PASSING TURTLE
by Richard Fein
Troubling the calm waters with charitable bread,
the kids under the kiosk toss in crumbs
as a fish feeding frenzy swirls below.
And next to them I also watch the churning foam,
but only I alone notice that teeny turtle over there,
for teeny is the adjective these preteens would use,
if they, like me, widened their vision beyond their created chaos
to see that bread-hungry turtle paddling so swiftly,
closer, closer still,
toward this oasis of turbulence in this placid pond.
But then gulp, ingest, gone, and now ghostly in my memory,
that humble bread-seeking creature was sucked in
by a carp the size of the tiniest dollhouse
and yet a behemoth in this puddle-size park lake.
Only I witnessed its extinction.
The dear children are still busy with their thrill-seeking beneficence,
and are awed by the maelstrom caused by their cast away charities
and so were oblivious to that passing turtle
whose existence was noted by none but me.
by Richard Fein
Lazarus was yanked from his four-day tomb
and somehow washed off the stench then went on his way.
But his way was not far for he was soon dead again,
and is still dead.
But isn't that the fate of us all?
Except Lazarus got a short furlough.
Not such a big deal considering the universe is measured in billions.
His dust has scattered and no bones are left for relic worship.
Rumor has it he was bumped off.
The powers-that-be back then
couldn't suffer a resurrected mortal among the living,
for such a freak makes the lower classes crazy with hope,
a hocus pocus hope that the higher-ups can't grant.
Lazarus: born, died, risen, but dead again.
Standard for gods, at least up to the risen part,
but we ordinary folk get only the usual born and died
in seriatim through the centuries.
One can't be immortal or forever remain in awestruck wonder,
for even the miraculously parted Red Sea quickly returned to normal.