By Barbara Meier
Family Commands a kind of a Zejel poem Gather the children on lush green lawns, scatter the lawn chairs between the shade of locusts trees that lean into conversations. Backyard bards in islands of aunts, uncles, guards of family stories, bombard the cousins, nephews, nieces, keen to eat but waiting for Bruce to boil the corn while kids queue up, Janis directs, Judy shoos, Jocelyn wipes the toddlers clean. Turn up the country music loud. The proud cicadas are not cowed. Roar the family fight song aloud. Stand tall like sentential corn seen now gone. Harvested, planted again, crops in the field, not grown in vain, hauled to the elevator then train; The family, the field, the scene of lullabies in Nebraska grow stronger with the task of growing a panorama of reunions that convene, grandpas and grandmas, unseen waiting above the blue jean sky, heaven’s Mezzanine
photo by Krisztina Papp