Friendly Message to Certain Intellectuals

In public parks, leaves scribbling messages

Both good and delicate, worn bodies still

On healing grass where slow talk presages

Return to countless struggles, heroes' will-

In scenes of common mingling and release,

You are not present in a simpler reach

Plumbing the momentary, open peace,

With nearness far from studio, formal speech.

You never join the bleachers at a game-

Coatless, perspiring, unassuming mite

Sharing a rich excitement in the same

Huge body floundering somehow into light.

In villages, when door-bloom celebrates,

You walk in groups, half-distant attitudes.

The townsfolk never meet you at their gates,

After helloes, digging through platitudes.

You live in neighborhoods where tragedies,

Brave laughters pile a never-ending price,

But on your block, how many people seize

Your hand, exchanging stories and advice?

Oh you can write a probing, earthly book:

Make brilliant painting, heart-clear symphony,

But they will live apart unless you look

And speak with people in obscurity.

Be sometimes gray and ordinary frames,

For life remains long after art-works die

And their creators are no longer names

Because they fashioned truth from walls too high.

Structure

28 lines · 1 stanza