My friend the Rev. Bill Phillips is a retired UCC minister. I met him and his wife Betty here in Panama, and they are part of our extended family, which means they were regulars on Thanksgiving. Betty Phillips was Mona's voice teacher. We spent the election of 2004 watching the presidental debates at their home in Balboa. On the night of the 2004 election, Bill and I began the evening sharing a bottle of Irish whisky. By the end of the evening we had killed the bottle, not in celebration but in desperation.
Bill sent me this poem yesterday, and it is posted here with his permission.
Talking Drums
by Bill Phillips
Beyond America singing,
I hear The beating of hearts
Messages across boundries of
Awakened memory
And emergent soul-
A pulse beat,
A pounding
That will not sleep.
I am talking of talking drums
And hands that part the night
With messages that grow louder,
Rising from the smoke
And kettle water
Of one village
And one hope.
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