Poem for George Curry (Journalist) 1947-2016

i often look back…there is

so much time

there…

that summer

when we all

were just learning

and trying

to 

love;

young

undergraduates

trying to make sense

of the times

and of our dreams…

we have all

distinguished

ourselves

somehow

in ways

I don’t know

for some.

but you went forward

with high goals

and fierce determination.

i have heard of your

great works

with no surprise

and that

of others

that we knew.

our course in years

is often short here;

it is rather what 

and how we do

that sets the bar,

leaves our mark

on life

and others;

…and writes

our story

beyond

the limit

of days.
Linda Tauhid

©8/27/16

August

i

sit

and wonder

just

where else

could i be;

Cornwall,

Dublin,

San Francisco;

even Accra

is cooler

than here.

and of course

it is winter

in South Africa

and mildly

cool in Nairobi.

August here

is relentless…

it cooks

non-stop.

i avoid the fierceness

of its hand

and hide

in my cave

of coolness.

waiting

for winter, spring

anything less ominous;

not free to walk

and breathe

as

the crushing heat

pushes even

the insects

in doors.

 

Linda Tauhid

©8/23/16

Souls

i have seen you

in the realm

of souls

and

of men.

in the land

of souls

we are mates.

in the land

of men

and women

we remain

distracted

and attracted

by our

surroundings,

it’s norms

and frequencies;

in the land

of souls

where i have met

you long

and often

i soar

to the sound

of your name;

to the music

you breathe

to the love

that you

re-make…

resigned

to the distance

that

the world

creates

between

men,

women

and souls.
Linda Tauhid

©8/16/16