“In a clinic in Paiwas” — Thomas W. Harris (1925 – 1999)

tom and me

Thanksgiving Dinner, Tom and me, date unknown

On the wall where I write some of these posts — crammed with memorabilia and photos stretching back decades — is a poem, date unknown, on the back of a letter. I only read both for the first time this summer. (In the photo, date unknown, is Tom Harris and myself at my parent’s dining room where Tom was a Thanksgiving dinner regular.)

tom and 1

Tom and me, date unknown

Tom was a lifetime political activist and writer, including for the Rochester Patriot  and the City.  For the most part, Tom wrote his poems only for himself.  Although I vividly remember — and he would like me saying this — Tom delighting us with impromptu invented limericks some of which — after a glass or two of wine — dipped into the man from Nantucket genre.

After his death, his wife Julie Everitt (see Marketview Heights) organized some of his work.  Julie used the poem as part of letter asking for donations for Project Bueno, a Rochester group dedicated to supporting the peoples of Latin America. One of Tom’s favorite sayings was in Spanish, Por La Paz: never, never give up.arketview

In the letter, Julie wrote:

paiwas

San Pedro de la Norte, Paiwas, Nicaragua

This year you are being asked  to make one last donation in memory of the founder, editor and publisher — Tom Harris. For those of you who may know, Tom died on August 5th [1999], twelve days after being diagnosed with cancer. One morning, shortly before his death the doctor asked him if he knew where he was. His response was, “In a clinic in Paiwas.” The doctor looked bewildered and said to me, “I do not think he knows where he is.” My response was, “He does.” For the past fifteen years much of his life was with the people of Nicaragua.

While Tom was in his 60s when the poem was written (and untitled), Julie and I agreed to title it:

In a clinic in Paiwas

The winds protest his passing by

The sun holds still behind the sky

And I too feel I have begun to die

 

The land murmurs in open repose

Welcoming back the one who from her arose

 

The land is deep

and

the sky is high

and

in between

we

live and die

 

This I do not comprehend

Why the beginning

and why the end?

 

Tom was also a member of the Rochester Veterans for Peace On Veteran’s Day at Buckland and Highland Parks. And the Moral Equivalent of War/vet day

 

tom with lucian2

Tom (left) and Lucian Wadell (right). Lucian, one of Tom’s close friends, is a Thanksgiving and Sunday Dinner regular. In Woodstock, NY this year but says he will toast Tom from there.

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Tom’s poem on wall

see other poems (links and pics)  “A Phone Call to Manhattan” dand les

and “November” IMG_1219