Wall and Dream and Voice


He is old now, living in the center of

His ninth decade here,

But he carries the years like

A mantle of wealth, rather than a burden.


He asks me if I saw the stone wall

At the entrance to the college.

I did, and admired it. He tells me

His son, gone now from this world


Brought that wall to be and put it in its place

A thing of skill and beauty,

Perfection in its own way. Its sweep

And length and even its breaks


Say: Here is something of substance

Of which you are welcome to partake.

And I dream the next night and hear

These words, “Blessed is the man


Who knows his own home place,

Who can name it, and tell its story.”

I did not know the voice, but

There was authority in the saying.


(J. McGinty, 1/2/16)

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