Kurt Philip Behm

Equus Pallidus (+3)

The horse was pale,

paler than the light off the mountain

that reflected back in memories long abandoned

 

Its mane was long,

longer than the struggle to save what

fortune had vehemently denied me twice

 

The time was short,

shorter than the flashes of history

that hoofprints trampled in the disappearing snow

 

The trail was closing,

closing on one last intrepid promise

crying out for life amidst a stampede of death

 

 

(Valley Forge Stables: March, 2021)

 

 

 

The Smallest Pond

 

Hey there, high school teacher,

your talent to rebuff

but when you try imagining

your focus coarse and rough

 

Your feelings mostly borrowed,

your words ill-gotten gains

your hours spent in false critique

of someone else’s pain

 

You’re outclassed high-school teacher,

your envy on display

your pedantry a mocking tone

and pretense on parade

 

(To Wayne Miller: April, 1967)

 

 

 

 

Unitatis

 

People tend to respect, respect,

both given and received

 

The dignity of every life,

in one-on-one reprieves

 

People tend to share the joy,

while closeting the pain

 

Humanity as best displayed

—when we are all to gain

 

(Austin Park: March, 2021)

 

 

 

Beyond The Clouds

 

Risking it all

in the earthbound sky

 

Her summit was calling,

the weather defies

 

An avalanche beckoned,

one Sherpa was lost

 

A trek through the death zone,

another one gone

 

The temperature dropping,

the oxygen sparse

 

My crampons now heavy

and feeling much worse

 

To retreat or push on,

the danger the same

 

All hail Sagarmatha

—still calling my name

 

(Memories Of Nepal: March, 2021)