Poetic License

He has traveled, yes
Gone from
green warm southern climes
to wasted lands
filled with tragedy and rue
filled with beauty and
soulful meanings

He has traveled, yes
gone from home, gone
to places unimaginable
and returned to
greater tragedies
than he traveled
to aid

What rich irony!
His anger,
slow Mississippi of
brown mild water
seems so harmless
till the rains pour
and inexorably
show its stubborn
implacable rule.

Neither mild indecision
nor flaming fires of rage,
the slow construction
of his strength
in cadences measured
by human heartbeat,
slow and steady,
rising, rising
until it cannot
be ignored.

Strength of patience,
deep humanity,
of warmth and complications
of richly generous smile and
poetic language
of gifts to shame Paris
make Apollo take note,
and Venus to beguile
as Hera watches jealously,
as Athena stands by,
serene, knowing he
will be hers alone

Coveted golden apple,
fought over by goddesses
simple words
a slow fire
the warmth is
what beguiles,
the slow movement
of warmth growing
into glow and
oh, the wonder of it
to a discerning heart.