[NORMAL READING]
It was a lovely, mild, late afternoon,
And Sylvia and I were briskly walking
Along the seawall by the beach, and soon
We would be home. And we did little talking,

Except to share hellos along the way
With people who we did not know, who smiled,
But not with others who just turned away.
[PAUSE]
I was about thirteen, a trusting child,

When I first heard, from parents in dismay,
Of what had happened to so many souls
Connected to me in an awful way.
There, by the beach, my mind turned towards those souls.

And, suddenly, I had an image of -
[DISTRESS]
Of - Oh! - How horrible it is to recollect! -
Of newborn babies thrown into a fire [PAUSE]
Made just for them! [CRYING] O tell me: Where was God!
[DISTRESS AND ANGER] Where was God’s Love!

[LONG PAUSE]

[RETURN TO NORMAL READING]
We walked, delighted, by the oceanside.
The sun was low and falling lazily.
The ocean, at high tide, crashed on the wall,
Driven by unseen winds --- crashed crazily.
At Kennebunk, there was no wind at all.

[LOUDER AND WITH EMPHASIS]
At Kennebunk, there was no wind at all!

[RETURN TO NORMAL READING]
At home, we had our supper and then watched TV.
[READ SLOWLY]
The news that wasn’t spoken [PAUSE] lives [PAUSE] inside of me.

Copyright (2008) by Arnold Cantor.
All rights reserved.

[This poem was inspired by some random thoughts on June 30, 2008, and finished for all intents and purposes on July 4, 2008 in Maine.]