When once there was real grass in the stadium

When once there was real grass in the stadium

 

 

fathers of foreign birth

founding sons

of unusual clarity

 

an American of substantial scope

relegated

to a few equations

of normalcy

 

the name an afterthought

of misdirection,

he grew up on the streets

of old Jersey

 

from the shores

transported

to a new opportunity

sons of fathers of foreign birth

 

find their way among the high roofs

in an urban jungle

with unusual clarity

sound judgement

 

heritage

an unused keepsake

hidden in an attic

of throwaway memorabilia

like an old baseball card

of some nondescript player

 

who barely batted .200

when on the shores

stood those individuals

who cheered

for the one who would never be a star

 

but carried his family home.

 

 

erin-cilberto

8/27/22

Reviews

[Ken e Bujold]

this is a great, thoughtful ode to America. One that many should read, but few will ever gleam the truth it speaks. Your country, mine too for that matter, was founded by men and women coming to build. The generations that follow in their wake are those sons "among high roofs" you cite. With each passing yr I find fewer and fewer of us seem to consider, let alone accept, that we all have the blood of immigrants in our DNA

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Yes, we all do...thank you, Ken,
j.

[Patricia Wedel]

Yes, we love our Country and became a part of a plan to protect our Freedom. It was difficult for our Fathers to leave their Country and it is never too late to Honor them. tenderly, Pat

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you are so right...never too late.
thank you, Pat,
j.

[W. Barrett Munn]

I wish I could tell you why I like this poem but I can’t, and that is both it’s strength and it’s beauty, as it’s filled with suggestions of where to look but provides no roadmap on how to get there.
Winston

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Winston,
j.