The poetry of Beto Ochoa, Prose from a spiritual warrior


The Poetry Of Beto Ochoa~ Prose from a spiritual warrior

Sunday, November 18, 2007

The Climbing Tree

We ran all day and climbed the trees
Without the fear of falling
But with respect for gravity
And always felt it calling

We rode in cars without air bags
The steel dashboard projecting
On slick hard seats in front and back
With no seatbelts protecting

We ate the food called poison now
And still grew into Titans
Because we ran or rode our bikes
And did our own fist fightin’

We heard an independent call
And hated slavery’s chains
We roamed at will and rode the waves
And suffered freedom’s pains

That one or two were taken out
Pursuing freedom’s verve
Was caution tale and understood
And served to steel our nerve

Yet now the children prattle by
In uniforms once earned
A tear comes to my wizened eye
And lesson hard is learned

The pain that you’re protecting from
Was once a stage of growth
So choose between a man or child
You cannot have them both

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Spring, with the newly budding mature trees planted when our house was new, now in your poem, I remember as a girl climbing up the strong tree frame when the desert breeze visited, holding tight to the truck while resting in the branches, minding to be of the tree. Never ask for more than can be given was a lesson we knew.

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