New Poem by Mike McCormick
November 22, 1963
By Mike McCormick
Silent prayers poured from my heart
as I trudged through
lifeless leaves,
walking directly home
from St. James School.
After dinner,
Dad suggested we drive
to the River.
He downshifted the jeep
into the blackness
of a vacant lot,
killed the engine,
lit a smoke,
and rolled down the window
to let in the murmur
of the Merrimack.
I’d buried my tear stained stare
into the floorboard
when he asked me to look
into the sky
and count the stars
together with him.
I lifted my head up,
and we counted
and counted,
together finding light
in that the darkest of nights.
Thanks for this poem. That particular day, Nov. 22–like Dec. 7–seems with each passing year to slip by with less and less notice. Your final stanza (“together finding light/in that the darkest of nights”) speaks to our human need to share sorrow and to find comfort amidst pain.
In like fashion, a scant few months after the heartache of that rainy November Friday in 1963, we found comfort in the first joyful noise of the Beatles.