Stones of My Fathers – a poem
Stones of My Fathers
Stones of my Fathers.
Mud under foot.
The Great Pyramids of Egypt and Mexico.
Laid by your hands.
I honor you.
Stones of my Fathers.
Cobbles under foot.
America, Europe, the Middle East.
Laid by your hands.
I honor you.
Stones of my Fathers.
Marbled Cathedrals, Temples, and Mosques.
Made by your hands.
I honor you.
Stones of my Fathers.
Carved blocks.
Michelangelo’s David.
The Slave’s White House.
Made by your hands.
I honor you.
Stones of my Fathers.
Wailing walls from Boston to Berlin,
Jerusalem, and China.
Segregated in. Segregated out.
Laid by your hands.
I cry with you.
Stones of my Fathers.
Crushed under foot, flat and smooth.
With painted lines, yellow and white.
Laid not by your hands.
Now stained with Red.
I cry with you.
Stones of my Fathers.
Carved with names.
Bones of the innocent.
Dying on you.
New York City.
Boston.
Los Angeles.
Ferguson.
France.
Israel.
Iraq.
Sarajevo.
Poland.
Rwanda.
Armenia.
Syria.
Vietnam.
Kenya.
Stones of my Fathers.
I pray for you.
~philippe berthiaume 4/24/15
Philippe Berthiaume is a creative soul receiving his first Blue Ribbon Award for a crayon drawing of Columbus’ Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria. He was six years old. It was his defining moment as an Artist. 16 years later he graduated with College degrees in Photography, Ceramic Arts, and Theology. Today, he paints pictures with words on paper, not with paint on canvas__ and his first novel is almost complete. During the warm months, his green thumbs are happy digging, planting, and meditating in his vegetable, perennial, and Japanese gardens. They are equally happy cooking in the ManKind Project kitchens of New England as a Man of Service. Philippe completed the New Warrior Training Adventure in 2009.
