Poem of William Hermanns

                    To a Boy

Three words ransack the homes:
money, icebox, fun —
words chained to greed and lust,
mentality of the gun.

You in backyard corner
gave flowers a sunlit start.
Cement was put on top,
no love hedged in your heart.

Is this a Christian home,
this desert of concrete,
where cocktail flowers grow,
and sullen neighbors meet?

The children's icebox mouth
and icebox looks like a purple bowl,
but parents have no time
to feed their heart and soul.

The loneliness of love
makes the belonging wilt,
A stranger in his home,
the child feeds secret guilt.

And guilt makes guilt its heir,
begets a karmic curse —
children’s children,
guns fill a nation's hearse.

This visitation wheel,
you, young friend, stopped its turn--
built for yourself a world
no hell fire can burn.

Your search stopped at my home,
Made it a garden shrine
with spiritual flowers --
your inner light can shine.

                            William Hermanns       [P262]