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Nordette Adams

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  Like a Revelations Day (poem-prayer at Easter)
by Nordette Adams
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Rated "PG" by the Author.

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Recent poems by Nordette Adams
•  Woman Found with Heart Missing
•  Note to Self, Number One
•  What Shall I Make of My Broken Heart? (Video)
•  Aberjhani's Angel for New Orleans
•  Poets Should Not Post Love Poems On The Internet
           >> View all 49

A poem prayer inspired by a multiple-murder case in Terrytown outside New Orleans, La., which included a toddler, a 6-year-old, and an 11-year-old. Sadly at Easter.

Like a Revelations Day
By Nordette Adams

When the lights go down in NOLA in the 3rd, in the 9th, in the 7th,
on streets not known for cultured gardens,
we hunch in corners, curl behind locked doors.

When the lights go up in NOLA, the city's staged with blood.
We stumble into her streets stuttering, hands stretched like blind men, fingers
fumbling at silver crucifixes, searching for the blank wooden cross.

We cry to believe that You came in flesh and escaped death for us all.
O' God, we need you, our fingers creep for the hem of your garment.
Our children fatten undertakers. POW! POW POW POW!

Is this what a last day is? Is this the last days we heard of,
that mothers and fathers would not know their children,
that children would hate brother and sister?

If a mother must go to one more funeral,
she will go into the grave with that child.
If a grandmother has to bail out one more son,
she will lock herself in the cell.
If a child has to dodge one more bullet,
will she clamor to meet her end?

O' Lord, we fall on our knees.
We fall on our knees and seek your face.
We seek your face, we wail at chaos.

Rein in evil, Lord. Counsel our souls to order.

(c) 2009 Nordette Adams

Read more about the tragedy that inspired this poem-prayer at this link


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Reviewed by Muhammad Al Mahdi 4/19/2009
This poem very aptly sums up the confusion and suppressed rage news like this inspire. They are not single, isolated incidents, of course, but a social phenomenon and as such an expression of society at its very core. They are not marginal. They are of the essence. They stem from the root of the society in we live in, its contempt for human life and basic human needs, its unbearable injustice and the cold-blooded hypocrisy that goes with it. The capacity of the human soul to accomodate itself to the overwhelming impact of repression is being stretched beyond the limits, and thus, logically, seeks an outlet for the aggression, anxiety and existential fears that determine its existence. The human nature is neither good nor bad. It isn't rational either. That's why its responses are often inappropriate and its strategies maladjusted. But if we say we do not understand, we are deceiving ourselves. For if society is not seen as what it is and if problems are not tackled and changes not taking place, the hope for survival would be an illusion.
As you see, yours is thought-provoking poem. (said with a sad smile)
Reviewed by Dawn Anderson 4/13/2009
So have moved me to tears.
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 4/13/2009
All I can ask is: Why?? Why on Easter Sunday?? We're supposed to be celebrating life, NOT death!! Heartbreaking!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :( >tears!!! <
Reviewed by jude forese 4/12/2009
powerfully compelling ... i hate to sound like a nihilist bit i doubt god's face will ever console the tragedy of human indifference and hostility ...

excellent work, Nordette ...
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 4/12/2009
Shattering - death doesn't take a holiday. While we celebrate Life in a resurrected Savior, man's inhumanities towards man and God's creations continue - you've me in tears here, Nordette.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Kate Burnside 4/12/2009
If a mother must go to one more funeral,

she will go into the grave with that child.

If a grandmother has to bail out one more son,

she will lock herself in the cell.

If a child has to dodge one more bullet,

will she clamor to meet her end?

Powerful in its heartfelt austerity, Nordette. I can feel all of inner-womanhood rising within this write. Some awesome imagery: "Our children fatten undertakers". Devastating and real. You certainly bring it home. And you certainly bring meaning and content to these High Days and Holidays. Great to see you posting again. Kate xx

Reviewed by L. Figgins 4/11/2009
Too sad for words Nordette. This plea for sanity is shouted at the tv "behind locked doors" on a near daily basis. Some of us have been victims of the violence which pervades our culture. If not ourselves then those we know. What angers me beyond the senseless slaughter of innocents is the brutal treatment of a mother mad with grief. How has life become so valueless and human decency so scarce? Those attending churches this morning should pray for our nation. A powerful and anguished prayer whose last four lines should be committed to memory.
Reviewed by Dan Rains 4/11/2009
(I don't even show up often and haven't posted in months, so take my critique as you will). Mostly I don't even read the notices I get, but I'm glad I did this one. Very powerful poem! There does seem to be some points that seem to be lacking...please don't take offense because I'm not smart enough to tell you what they might be. There are two or three lines that I wish I had thought of first, but the one in particular "Our children fatten undertakers." Is one of the most poignant lines I've read in a long time.
Thanks for sharing.
Reviewed by Mary Lacey, Desertrat 4/11/2009
What a horrible tragedy! Your words comparing it the crucifiction ring so true. How awful the people involved in this.

Reviewed by Regis Auffray 4/11/2009
Of late, I have seemed to be "carried" to the place you bring to life via your verse here, Nordette. I am greatly saddened and I weep often. I do not know what to do. Love, peace, blessings, and my best wishes to you,

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