Poem : John Lennon

On December 8th 1980 the children of the arts wept
For the genius of words dripping with truth no longer would sing
Would no longer play his melodies of peace
Would no longer hold his wife
His son
His guitar
My nine year old heart suddenly felt empty, cold, and dark
When the blank look of the news caster told the last moments of Lennon
The poet from Liverpool now lay blood-soaked and lifeless for no reason at all
Tears filled my eyes as I tried to understand what this all meant
Make since of why this had happened
And I wondered, who was The Catcher In The Rye?
At that point in my young life I had never seen a man cry
My world was filled with adults, who for survival shutoff tears of emotion long ago
Ashamed from my teardrops of sadness
I walked, then ran far into the meadow behind my home to cry
And I wondered, who was The Catcher In The Rye?
I kept crying and thinking, maybe they’ve made a mistake
Maybe it was somebody else
It just couldn’t be
Then the tears fell even faster
Chilling the side of my face in the cold winter breeze
For this lie I was telling myself was almost as bitter as the truth
The truth that was broadcast all over the world
The man that dared to imagine would imagine no more
Who had the heart of a dreamer
The man who filled my young ears with the first sounds of music
From needles blown off then carefully placed on slow spinning records
As my tears kept flowing I whispered goodbye to the heavens
And I wondered, who was The Catcher In The Rye?
　



Published at The Rainbow Rose 12-18-2011