Profiles - Poems By Howard Salzman | My Retirement Dreams | FRONTLINE | PBS



		You look at me aged and wrinkled. Do you think you will not be here some day when others will peer at you and turn away? Today is your tomorrow and you are me my friend. The only difference is time. ...................................... You placed a kiss in the palm of your hand and blew it towards me it gathered into a fine mist, then descended into my heart; when its journey was through the soul looked up and said thank you 1994 published in Innerself. April 1995
		There is a phoenix within us all that calls from the depths of our being when we listen we hear continue on physical limitations are but an invitation to another route for there are many roads to the mountain top so let not the mind slumber in the past but awaken to new frontiers of enlightenment and if the body falters strength the spirit and behold the feelings of despair will burn away and out of the ashes the phoenix will ascend to carry you to a world of splendor where knowledge, beauty and job reside so make haste the royal bird readies itself for flights to heights you never dreamed of. published in Innerself 1994
		A little boy with a handful of flowers looked at me and said "hello" quite natural like lacking all the discipline of politeness It was with warmth and innocence and then he was gone. Let us preserve the world for little boys that walk with flowers in their hands. published in Innerself in October 1994
		We are the men with no names that roam the clutter your streets curling in the corner of doorways half-hidden under a bridge lay on a blanket of mud. We are the men with no names who are haunted by the past and fearful of the present. Our feet fester and our bodies know no end to pain. We are the men with no names forgotten We cry out for you our brothers and our sisters but our cries are washed away with the wind and our tears are dried by the sun. We are the forgotten ones we are the men with no names drifting along your streets waiting for death.
		A body of a thousand lips I kiss caressing piece by piece a thousand lips beneath your skin cry yes yes yes yes yes ride stallion ride and I sweet friend shall walk in the warm rain of your womb.
		Black single parent I knew you as a statistic numbers, percentages concepts that clouded my mind but my eyes penetrated the abstractions and I saw your eyes filled with love for your child. If violent men would gather and gaze upon your face then the hate in their hearts would give flight and the hardened fists would unfold to seek your tender embrace. published in the Miami Times on August 5, 1993

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