LAMENTATION FOR PAUL WELLSTONE

Cyril Paul

November, 2002

Weeks after Paul’s death

I search within myself for clues

To understand the whirlwind of emotions

Which plagued my state of mind.

The pain, the sorrow, the grief, the anger, the agony

Fast and furious anger fanned my disbelief

An annoying disbelief, truth and courage ended

Like a puff of wind it vanished completely.

Pain pierced my heart, into a dull puffed up stone,

Shaped my faith shaken but still remembering

The warm handshake on Summit

As we cycled our way to Chicago.

Those fiery eyes flashed concern and consciousness,

Engaged warmth and inspiration into me

On that early July morning.

Now all hope has been dashed insensitivity, darkness appears.

I perceive only shallow sentiments like empty sounds

From mouths spewing grief hollowed with forked tongues

Tongues that hang dripping, salivating after needed power

A vision of a dream deferred, a promise shattered

A wind tossed nation like willows

Wasted by the strong sound of fury.