A call

Vladimir Huber > Poems > A call

Atlantic City, NJ, March 25, 1972

A call

By Vladimir Huber

People: weird things
walking around loose.
I don’t know,
but sometimes I get scared…
when I think of the possibilities,
and yet, we remain loud and blind.
I get scared,
when I see them getting hurt,
when all what I mean is love.
I know, our eyes
haven’t been delivered to us,
but, is that all what we can use?
Is it true, that, because science
doesn’t define the term ‘mind,’
we won’t use it?
That’s what it seems to be happening.
It’s sad, as many
other things that we do
based in our crazy rationalism.

God, instead of saving the Queen,
why don’t you take care
of the helpless children
that walk around naked,
with thousands of masks and coats,
which don’t let me see through?!

If we are deaf,
maybe you will hear.