david lessard Poems

Who speaks for the Indian?
The Indian himself is not allowed to speak.
The white man attempts to do that for him.
How can one race speak for that of another?
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In this land of little rain,
Suddenly there comes a shower,
a burst of rain so fast and hard,
it makes timid ones to cower.
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a Chopin nocturne sets my mind at ease,
the music makes my soul to soothe;
piano melodies to play and please,
enchants the heart, makes the spirit move.
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When did we ever say goodbye?
When did we ever let each other go?
When did we ever give up our love?
We never, ever, really did, you know...
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I forgive you,
for breaking my heart;
I forgive you,
for breaking us apart.
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physically speaking, I am a deaf man,
spiritually speaking, I am not deaf to God's word;
I praise and honor Him in any way I can,
and in my silent prayers, I know that I am heard.
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To those of you who think that all of Arizona is a desert,
I've got some news for you;
See the Mollogon Rim and the hundred mile view.
Visit the White Mountains, fish in Crescent Lake,
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I don't want you anymore,
For me, that much is certain;
I will close that final door,
and pull that final curtain.
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I know now
what I didn't know then,
but it's too late,
and I have other things to tend.
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There was a time, when I knew no sadness-
There was a time, when I knew no pain;
There was a time, when all I knew was gladness,
I think that was a time, that I will never see again.
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