ericka huggins

Someday when the heroes of today

have all been rendered to

song and all the garlands

have withered and are cast aside,

you will remember that the 

songs they sang were only words,

that all the garlands were 

just colored paper flowers.

you will remember then that

my love was real, that 

it was not words (because i

told you more in a touch) and 

it was never created to be beautiful

(because our conditions, our lives 

are so ugly).

you will remember then-if you

too are not a hero in a song-

that I listened when all camaraderie

was relegated to a handshake

and no more. I was there, 

I understand your desire for freedom…

you will remember then 

and when you do, you will know 

that I was real; that I did not pretend,

or intend to crush you when I leaned.

you will remember and when you do-

maybe I will still be there,

somewhere among the songs 

and garlands—a memory.