The Dream
I dreamed a dream of two parades so different, yet the same,
And I could not place the meaning of the first parade that came.
Along a road lined with many leafless and grey, dying trees
A black parade moved slowly forward trailing grief and unease.
Soft silence overwhelmed silence, and silence soft silence grieved,
Making sobs erupt from hearts burdened heavy and long bereaved,
Blinding eyes with hopeless dark; that trudging future no one sees.
Thus the first parade had come and a second followed after,
I could not place which was the slave and which one was the master.
For I dreamed a dream of two parades so different, yet the same,
And I could not place the meaning of the next parade that came.
Along the road of the first parade, where grieving silence hung,
A bright parade, a colored party, came marching and they sung
Soft strains of music which wafted light from flutes and drums and horns,
Making flowers bloom and the trees bud with sprightly vibrant thorns,
Blinded eyes with mirthful tears; their sins upon a tree are strung.
I woke again when the morning came, my dream began to fade,
And I could not place the meaning that was found in that parade.
Ever Must He Wake
Ever must he wake so early
Before the greater world awakes
And with gestures sleepy surly
Pot of coffee makes.
Then his mug from cupboard takes
Pours himself an earthy brew
Then drinking deep he finds strength anew.
Then he leans, with his mug in hand,
’Gainst the counter to gaze outside
And sees white flakes, as vast white sand,
Tears while falling dried.
Thinking thus he turns aside,
Pours himself another brew
Then drinking deep finds his strength anew.
Always must he wake so early
Before the rest of the world wakes.
Then, with gestures dreamy surly,
Black drip-coffee makes.
His mug from his cupboard takes
Then pours himself warm black brew
Deeply drinks and finds his strength anew
Judah was born April 1992 and raised on a ranch in rural Wyoming. When he was twelve years old he started keeping journals and writing poetry, though it wasn’t until late in his college career that he started writing with serious intent. To date, Judah has written a quantity of poetry, one novel, a variety of short stories, and has accumulated stacks of personal ‘notes and scrawlings’ which he consults for inspiration. Currently, Judah is attending college in Montana where he is studying Literature and Communications.
This poem is among the entries for the Society of Classical Poets’ 2012 Poetry Competition.