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642 · Nov 2016
Only A Dream
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2016
She stole your heart
  without asking,
  —leaving only a dream to chase

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)
641 · Sep 2019
Sages And Broomsticks
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2019
The temperature frozen
Old sticks in the mud
New tracks are untrodden
Lost dreams from above
The raisins in darkness
All pits buried deep
The moon shines unfaithful
Recounting of sheep
The doctors watch broken
Your time shorter still
His prognosis a token
Beyond suture or pill
He asks if you’re ready
You say that you’re not
He asks if it matters
You ask if it ought
And into the night
You begin once again
To hurry the ending
To reach beyond blame
And all of the hate
You then leave behind
To warn all those jaded
Of what they’re never to find
"Partisan dreamer
Audience of one
Killer of grammar
Words on the run
Paragraph’s jilted
The undotted ‘I’
The meaning now freed
All language denied
Rhythm of opportunity
Children of hope
Seizing the moment
Not dropping the soap
Stretching the limits
Crossing the line
To beat a new cadence
Time begs to shine"
You want it to make sense
You want it to seem clear
As your feigned self importance
No longer precious or dear
But the only one caring
And that still in doubt
A mirrored reflection
Of what time has cast out
You head off to work
Your laser untagged
The morning unvetted
Coworkers who brag
The lunch break upon you
Again eating alone
The steak is served raw
Chewed right to the bone
The banter around you
Seems damning at best
The shroud that surrounds you
To defile or to bless
“You gain nothing by trying”
You gain nothing you say
As you then begin crying
For that one gone away
That girl in the tall grass
That girl in your arms
Went to be with another
When you bartered your charms
Her daughter is grown now
Some say looks like you
Could it be then you wonder
When the times were so few
You pay the cashier
As you walk slowly out
This bill had been dear
More than you had allowed
With the bone in your pocket
You head back to your desk
As the cry of a mockingbird
Decries and behests
Your pen running dry
As your mind starts to write
On your third eye a sty
Melding vision with sight
And its then that you notice
Hanging pink and in front
And you know that your future’s
A dog that can’t hunt
So you walk to his office
And sit down in the chair
You look at him soulless
And try not to care
He explains “That he’s sorry”
That “The timing’s not right”
He says that you’re valued
But be gone by tonight
As you clean out your desk
A new feeling partakes
You look up to the ceiling
Lost in all that’s at stake
And that feeling is good now
That feeling seems right
As the feeling then pushes
As the feeling alights
You decide now emboldened
To stop on the way home
At the house of that one
You left forever alone
You heard of divorce
You wonder how bad
The damage it left her
Was it worse than you had
As you slow down your car
She stands in the yard
As you speed up your heart
She says “Directions, how far”
She does not recognize you
Have you changed all that much
She looks at you puzzled
As you long for her touch
And you drive away empty
As you drive away cold
And you drive away blackened
From your heart to your soul
But your path is now clear
You’ve just one place to go
As those things that you feared
Have now falsely been shown
And you walk in her kitchen
The door never had locked
Standing there and still smitten
The one you thought had forgot
“Was that you in the car earlier
Was that you, really you
I couldn’t believe it
Because I still love you, I do”
A reward wrapped in burlap
The priciest kind
Where if never rejected
You are never to find
So make just one promise
To then promise again
To be true to your feelings
From beginning to end
"Sages and broomsticks
motherless pearls
Witches who threaten
fatherless girls
New curse of the ages
old grudges remain
A coven of stages
to hide from the rain
And the mark then of Satan
the touch of the Lord
To the death plated sunset
and the winner forlorn"
The trap in this quandry
which you must break out
As with all ***** laundry
to first burn and then shout
As the truth is not distant
a true word never feigned
And the peace that you’re seeking
still inside and unclaimed
So let go of the dogma
and the medals will melt
Your deck full of aces
all cards are redealt
But the moment is now
and the moment is clear
Once the moment is chosen
new joy spun from fear
So to those who will threaten
with eternity ******
Say “Away with your blasphemy
stop where you stand”
Your wings have resprouted
your eyes looking in
A new life has been started
—you’re blessed to begin

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
639 · Sep 2022
Closing The Circle
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2022
The end layers over the beginning
in contours of time
Blanketing the middle
in consorts of connection
Rescuing the lost from themselves
—saving the foundling’s parade

(Dreamsleep: September, 2022)
636 · Sep 2016
First Poem
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2016
Release your mind from the
  drought of expedience

And harvest in the crops
  of your insanity

(Philadelphia, Woodand Ave: September 1972)

Note:  This is the first serious poem that I wrote as
            a struggling graduate student living in the
            bowels of West Philadelphia.
636 · Feb 2019
Sleeping With The Muse
Kurt Philip Behm Feb 2019
Sleeping with the Muse,
  my nights have grown short

Sleeping with the Muse,
  all senses comport

Sleeping with the Muse,
  words dance with delight

Sleeping with the Muse,
  confronting my fright

Sleeping with the Muse,
  her will tests again

Sleeping with the Muse,
  not lover or friend

Sleeping with the Muse,
  my dreams sacrificed

Sleeping with the Muse,
  all rest put on ice

Sleeping with the Muse,
  the whispers come clean

Sleeping with the Muse,
  excuses demeaned

Sleeping with the Muse,
  my spool is respun

Sleeping with the Muse,
  divorced from the sun

Sleeping with the Muse,
  in darkness I learn

Sleeping with the Muse,
  my spirit confirmed

Sleeping with the Muse
  till dawn’s freeing light

Sleeping with the Muse
   —new verse to take flight

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
633 · Nov 2021
Birthmark
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2021
The infancy of evil,
infirmities youth
Children surrendered
—caught in its truth

(Dreamsleep: November, 2021)
633 · Aug 2018
The Chameleons
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2018
Bravery and fear
  not either or

But versions of…

Valor and shame
  brought heretofore

Mixed pieces of…

A riddle to confound
  the poet’s mum

As glory weds disdain…

Courage and fear
  not zero-sum

But oft times look the same

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
629 · Oct 2023
Song Of The Swan
Kurt Philip Behm Oct 2023
Were you invited
to the party
Do you paint
or write or sing
Have the voices
come to visit
Did new feelings
lodge within
Were you courted
by seduction
Has your soul
become entranced
As you sit alone
and wonder
Will this be
—the final dance

(Dreamsleep: October, 2023)
628 · Aug 2022
Cultural Rescindence
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2022
Evolution changes
the mind of man

All insight martyred
for wider scans

The magic filtered
as books proclaim

What facts uncover
and time disdains

Evolution fosters
a weakened soul

Each process stifled
the gist untold

Forever whittled
in narrow canes

Tomorrow empty
—the past defamed

(Dreamsleep: August, 2022)
628 · Feb 2017
Morgan Freeman Got It Right
Kurt Philip Behm Feb 2017
There is no African American history,
or Native American history,
or Irish American history,
or Italian American history,
or German American history,
or Chinese American history,
or Hispanic American history,
or White American history...

There is only American History,
--- and Morgan Freeman got it right!

(Grantham New Hampshire-February, 2017)
621 · Jan 2020
Freebird
Kurt Philip Behm Jan 2020
A Poets gathering...
party of one

The darkness invited
—words zero sum

(Dreamsleep: January, 2020)
619 · Apr 2017
All Heaven In Sight
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2017
As a writer,
  I create my own freedom

And as a writer,
  I invent my own friends

As a writer,
  I espouse my own truth

And as a writer,
  my will never bends

As a writer,
  I travel the world

And as a writer,
  that journey’s within

As a writer,
  I dive for more pearls

And as a writer,
  never having to swim

As a writer,
  the moon rises at dawn

And as a writer,
  the sun burns through the night

As a writer,
  my words play immortal

And as a writer,
—all heaven in sight

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
617 · Dec 2023
Pervenire
Kurt Philip Behm Dec 2023
The further out your writing goes
—the further in you are

(Dreamsleep: December, 2023)
611 · Nov 2021
Indelibly Inked
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2021
You can’t wash away loneliness,
it lurks and it spies
a stain on tomorrow
where destiny cries

You can’t keep what’s been stolen
or find what’s not there,
alone and deserted
—the soap of despair

(Dreamsleep: November, 2021)
607 · Jan 2023
Slip Sliding Away
Kurt Philip Behm Jan 2023
What can’t be forgiven
must be forgotten
Memory the catalyst
for sorrow and pain

The future endemic
its danger befalls us
Salvation escaping
—reluctant to change

(Dreamsleep: January, 2023)
606 · Jul 2018
Love's Captive
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2018
Surrendering to love
  —an imprisonment of joy!

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
603 · Nov 2016
The Music Stops
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2016
The jaws sing
As the drip, drip, drip,
Of the petroleum chorus
Dances across
The inverted aluminum
And the hissing starts
And the hissing stays
Its smell a warning
A final omen
Like the last rose
Of summer
Or the fragrance she wore
For that final goodbye
The teeth tear inward
Like the regret for today
And the regret for yesterday
And the lament for tomorrow
Its promise broken
And your khakis red
And baptized
A stigmata
To self infliction
As the music plays constant
And the rushing you feel
An emptying of sorrow
Onto the crushed ceiling
Of a dream in reverse
Of all life in reverse
Until two arms grab you
And you fall from the sky
And you fall from the sky
Waiting
For the ground
To coronate the outcome
And for one more answer
To a ‘why’ unquestioned
And to love you one more time
But the lights are now dim
And the voices muffled
As an ***** can be heard
And store bought flowers smelled
And an old woman cries…
As a young woman cries…
And a stranger pronounces
What you feared the most
They didn’t know you
And couldn’t know you
The exit sign flashing
But there is no door
“There is no door”
—and then the music stops

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
601 · Jun 2017
Literal Obesity
Kurt Philip Behm Jun 2017
Word count a burden,
  lines adding weight

Meaning gets crushed
  —feelings deflate

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
596 · Mar 2017
Fear Stalks The Night
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2017
Making sense of it all…
  our grandest myth

Wisdom born of age,
  bleeds from youth’s betrayal

Questions drying unvarnished,
  naked meanings

Darker darks reface the cliff,
  edges sharper cut

Two images, clearer than before,
   preying in deadly contrast
  
As wonder divides the day,
  —fear stalks the night

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
596 · Dec 2018
The Gateway
Kurt Philip Behm Dec 2018
The pathway to happiness is laughter
—the gateway to laughter is children

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2018)
594 · May 2017
Prophet Of Time
Kurt Philip Behm May 2017
You belong to the lyric,
  you give life the words

You belong where before you did not,
  you most need to be heard

You belong to the meaning,
  you stare into the dark

You belong to what’s not of this world,
  you rechristen the stark

You belong to what’s promised,
  you the master of rhyme

You belong to the choices you’ve made,
  you the prophet of time
  
You belong to the morning,
  you emblazon the night

You belong to those voices that call,
—you belong to the light

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)
590 · Oct 2023
Schismogenesis
Kurt Philip Behm Oct 2023
Cultures dissected …
structured refusal
Cloistered eruptions
dearth to accept
  
Rising triumphant
they steal from each other
Defining their existence
—by what they reject


(Septa R5: September, 2023)
589 · May 2017
Without—Within
Kurt Philip Behm May 2017
Traveling beyond your borders,
  freedom scents the trail

Traveling beyond your borders,
  destiny in the mail

Traveling beyond your borders,
   memory in the wind

Traveling beyond your borders,
—without becomes within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2013)
589 · Nov 2024
Dry Well
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2024
Writing
with my head
but
not my heart

My spirit
an orphan
alone
— and apart

(Dreamsleep: November, 2024)
586 · Jul 2022
Leading Down...
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2022
To never change a mind that’s closed
or stroke the lion’s mane
With fate embedded, etched in stone
you’re left with what remains
In tunnels dark and burrowed deep
you hide from nature’s wrath
Whose last denial, truth reviled
—reseeds the garden path

(The New Room: July, 2022)
586 · Feb 2017
No Dishonor Or Shame
Kurt Philip Behm Feb 2017
A warrior lives,
  like he’s already dead

His honor intact,
  his mission ahead

A destiny called,
  by an enemy name

All glory to God,
—no dishonor or shame

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)
585 · Sep 2016
A Wish Now On Loan
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2016
Making love to your memory,
  I watched her walk past

Blonde, eighteen and tan,
  and this decade my last

A memory comes back,
  as new feelings release

Of a field in September,
  when our hearts were at peace

And I thought of you fondly,
  as I watched her go by

I held the thought warmly,
  and tried not to cry

Turning my head now to follow,
  she passed to my left

My joint pain now hollow,
  old passions bereft

But this memory won’t leave me,
  as that summer you did

These thoughts now my own,
  where you once did forbid

And as she steps through the doorway,
  a fantasy unknown

I make love to her memory,
—with a wish now on loan

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
584 · Nov 2018
Cyber Unlearned
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2018
Manipulating reality,
  the moment concealed

Manipulating reality,
  what’s virtual ‘real’

Manipulating reality,
  the keys push and drain

Manipulating reality,
  technology reigns

Manipulating reality,
  fantasy schools

Manipulating reality,
  apostasy rules

Manipulating reality
  all cursors and screens

Manipulating reality,
  lost memory undreamed

Manipulating reality,
  electrons control

Manipulating reality
  a hard driven soul

Manipulating reality,
  love crashes and burns

Manipulating reality
  —truth cyber unlearned

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2018)
583 · Jul 2023
Tanabata Sama
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2023
People in love
say many things
only lovers understand
Hearing voices
ringing bells
that time cannot command
People in love
go hand in hand
to course the Milky Way
Promises made
as joy unlocks
—forever and a day

(The New Room: July, 2023)
583 · Nov 2016
The Trail Boss Turns 60
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2016
The Camp Cooky’s singin again outa tune,
  about turnin 60 today around noon

"What good is there in it?" I hear him say,
  and it got me to thinkin . . . seein it was his birthday

It seems bein 60’s got two spins to that tale,
  one frittered and wrinkled, the other covered in shale

The one who’s 60 if truth be told,
  is still younger than all those 61—to real old

In the campfire’s crackle of light I can see,
  how everyone younger, is likely dumber than me

So if my hands struggle with the knots and riggin fer sure,
  the knowin and the tellin to those younger’s worth more

Havin outlived many a cow horse, while lovin them all,
  the awnry and skitterish, the short and the tall

The summers ridin drag, and the worst winters mendin fence,
  with a slicker full a holes, and that ol dog with no sense

And while the cuttin and the brandin seems boring to some,
  it’s the importance of their nature and gettin things done

When the hats and the spurs and even the saddles are all gone,
  and the sun sinks over that last mountain, like in Dusty’s ol song

I’ll remember the good times, lettin go of the bad,
  and think back on the pards and the ladies I’ve had

Because just like for Cooky, it happened last year to me,
  and turnin 60 seemed ranker than any bronc could ever be

But like that new Visalia saddle the boss man said was now mine,
  I've found somethin that’s different, somethin gentler and kind

The speed and the strength ain’t been traded for free,
  and somethin woke up that I guess was sleepin in me

And as I yell to the wrangler “Cut me one gentle and nice”
  without loosin too much pride I ask, “Can you help Ol Jim
  cinch his riggin real tight”

Then once more in the dark I ride off in search of the herd,
  singin that one favorite cow song every real hand has heard

And as I inch up on the lead steer whisperin mellow and low,
  “Yippee ki yay, Ol Fella; you ready to go”

For maybe one last time we push North thru the dark,
  the sun still two hours off to the right of our mark

While in the distance a wolf howls, as that lead steer catches my
  eye, and in that instant I know I’m still needed—a long ways
  from g’bye

(Dewey Montana: Circa 1990) Read In Elko Nevada, 1993
580 · Sep 2023
As I Wait
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2023
Call me darling
but never darlin
Call me lovely
but never cute
Call me warmly
from the snow bank
Call me your
forbidden fruit

Call me restless
dreams on fire
Call me once
when twice won’t do
Call my name
into the darkness
Call me
—as I wait for you

(Villanova University: September, 2023)
578 · Sep 2016
The Thread
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2016
Is there a thread that binds and ties,
  an artist to his art

Is it thin or thickly woven,
  does it hold or come apart

Is it there to free or wear one down,
  with the memory of its form

Does its very nature reattach,
  when in fury it is torn

Does it link in stark remembrance,
  all that’s past and gone away

Does it keep the truth within arms reach,
—when again we’ve lost our way

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
577 · Aug 2021
Blind Meridian
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2021
Fire burns hottest
that burns below
Centuries rage
heartache’s grow
The coldest cold
blows just above
A gripping blizzard
—wrath ungloved


(Dreamsleep: August, 2021)
576 · Apr 2022
The Tide That Binds
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2022
Life when it’s tragic
a forced similarity
Spreading like water
—flooding the plain

(Dreamsleep: April, 2022)
576 · Mar 2022
Arrested Development
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2022
I am not
me
We are not
us
They are not
them
And here is not
there

(Dreamsleep: March, 2022)
575 · Feb 2019
Feeling Beyond
Kurt Philip Behm Feb 2019
Can your humanity
  transcend your intellect?

Can your love
  outlive your mind?

Can your reasons
  put your excuses to rest?

Can your vision
  survive being blind?

Can you rise above
  the factual?

Can you see
  beyond what’s plain?

Can you journey inside
  to find yourself?

Can you feel
  —beyond pleasure or pain?

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2019)
570 · Sep 2016
Turning Darkness To Light
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2016
With a new honesty,
  I began to write

As the fog was cleared,
  liberating my sight

From lies and confusion,
  the wrongs became right

My days now lengthened,
—turning darkness to light

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
569 · May 2022
Dark Royalty
Kurt Philip Behm May 2022
Heaviest is the heart
—that wears the frown

(Dreamsleep: May, 2022)
560 · Apr 2017
Last Words
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2017
Can you pray without a doctrine,
  can you sing above the choir

Can you cast off earthly burdens,
  can you burn without the fire

Can you give, no longer taking,
  can you welcome strangers in

Can you love beyond all feeling,
—your last words to then forgive

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
551 · Aug 2018
Tasunka Witko
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2018
The greatest of men
  he bled the truth,
  his wounds for all to share

A symbol relived
  a life unspoiled,
  courage all too rare

The towering hawk
  the thundering storm,
  hailstones mark the way

A moment in time
  a vision embraced
   —his name the children pray

(Plane From Detroit: August 21, 2018)
551 · Apr 2024
The Right Choice (unedited)
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2024
It was 3:00 a.m. in Bowie Maryland in the year of our Lord, 1861.

A drum roll passed by in the night not more than a mile away, and Billy couldn’t tell whether it was coming from the Yanks or the Rebs. Both of Billy’s brothers had left home in the past two months.  His oldest brother Jeb having joined the Army of Northern Virginia, while his next oldest brother Seth was now fighting for the Union with Major General George G. Meade in the Army of the Potomac. Billy’s family was like a lot of other families in Maryland, and the Western Shore of Virginia, with some men choosing to fight for the North while many chose the South.

Billy was just about to turn sixteen and still had not chosen his side.  He had friends and family fighting for both and knew that the time was getting short for him to choose.  He couldn’t imagine fighting against either of his older brothers, but once he decided the possibility would definitely be there.  Billy pulled the bed covers over his head and thought back to a more pleasant time — a day when his two older brothers had taken him fishing in Mayo along the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay.

His brothers couldn’t have been more different.  Jeb was large and domineering with a personality that fit the profile of the typical soldier or warrior.  Seth was more studious and would rather have his nose stuck in a book than behind the sights of a Springfield Rifle Model 1861.  The 1861 was the most widely used rifle on both sides. The south called their version the Fayetteville Rifle, and Billy’s Dad had given his to Jeb just before he died last year.  Billy had never fired the big gun and had only carried it for his father and brother when they went on their weekly hunts for deer and small game.

Billy Finally Drifted Off To Sleep …

The next morning, his mother told him that Union soldiers had passed by in the night under the command of Colonel Elmer E. Ellsworth.  They were on their way to Alexandria Virginia to join with Colonel Orlando B. Wilcox in an attempt to retake Alexandria and drive the confederates out.  It was just too close to Washington D.C. and had to be secured. For several months confederate troops had been infiltrating Maryland and sightings had been reported from Hagerstown to Anne Arundel County. Billy wondered about the fighting that would take place later that week and hoped that wherever his brothers were engaged they were safe and out of harms way.

After breakfast, Billy decided to spend the day fishing along the Patuxent River just southeast of his home.  He rode their old Tennessee Walker George as his blue tick hound Alfie ran along side. It took Billy an hour to get to the river and he used the time to once again try and decide what the right thing was for him to do.  He had sympathies for both sides, and the decision in his mind was neither black nor white.  He wished that it was because then he could get this all over with and leave today. Billy was famous in his area for being able to get across the water. Whether it was a makeshift raft, dugout canoe, or just some drift lumber available, Billy had made it across long open stretches of the Chesapeake Bay — never once having been deterred.

He Was An Early Day Chesapeake Waterman

Billy returned home from fishing that day and found his house burned to the ground.  His mother was standing out front still in tears with her arms wrapped around Billy’s little sister Meg.  A rear-guard unit from Ellsworth’s column had gotten word that Billy’s brother Jeb was fighting for the South and just assumed that the entire family were southern sympathizers. Billy’s mother tried to tell the soldiers that her middle son was fighting with the Army of The Potomac.  No matter how hard she pleaded with the sergeant in charge, he evacuated all in the house (Billy’s Mother, Sister and Aunt Bess) and then covered the front porch in coal oil, lit it with a torch, and then just rode away. He never even turned around to watch it burn.

That Union Sergeant had now made Billy’s decision crystal clear, at least for the moment.  Once he got his mother, sister, and aunt resettled, he would make his way to Virginia and join with his older brother in the confederate cause. He remembered his brother Jeb telling him that the Confederate Soldiers had more respect, and he couldn’t imagine them doing to his family what the Union Army had just done.

It took Billy two weeks to get his Mother resettled with family up in Annapolis.  He then packed the little that remained of his belongings, loaded up old George, and said goodbye to the life he knew.  It would be a week’s ride to get past the Union Camps in Southern Maryland and Northern Virginia, and he knew he would have to stay in the tree line and travel at night.  If caught by the Yanks, his only chance of survival would be to join up with them, and he couldn’t imagine fighting for those who had just destroyed his home. His conviction to get past Fredericksburg was now determined and strong.

All Billy had to arm himself with was an 1860 percussion squirrel rifle that his brothers had bought him before going off to war.  It was only.36 caliber, but still gave Billy some feeling of security as he slowly passed through the trees in the dark. His plan was to hug the western shore of the bay, as far as Charlotte Hall, and then take two short ferry rides. His first would be across the Patuxent River and then one across the Potomac on his way to Fredericksburg.  He prayed and he hoped that the ferry’s he found were not under Union control.

Billy spent his first night in Churchton along the western shore. It was quiet and uneventful, and he was actually able to get a good night’s sleep.  He had run out of oats for George though, and in the morning needed to find an understanding farmer to help fortify his mount.  As he approached the town of Sunderland, he saw a farmer off to his right (West) tending to his fields.  Billy approached the farmer cautiously making sure he rode around in front of the farmer and not approaching from the rear.

The farmer said his name was Hawkins, and he told Billy there were oats over in the barn and two water troughs in front of the house.  He also said that if he was hungry there was a woman inside who would fix him something to eat.  He then told him that he could spend the night in his barn but since it was still early in the day, he said he was sure that Billy wanted to move on.

Billy thought it was strange that the man asked no other questions of him.  He seemed to accept Billy for all that he was at the moment — a young man riddled with uncertainty and doubt and on his way to a place he still wasn’t sure was right for him.  The look in the man’s eyes pointed Billy in the direction he now needed to go, and as he turned to thank him for his hospitality the man had already turned back to his plow.

In the barn were three large barrels of oats and five empty stalls. Two of the stalls looked like they had recently been slept in because there were two empty plates and one pair of socks still lying in the stall furthest to the left.  Billy fed George the oats and then walked outside.  Everything looked quiet in the house as he approached the front door.  He knocked twice, and a handsome looking woman about his mother’s age answered before he could knock a third time.  The woman’s name was Martha and as she invited Billy inside, she asked him when was the last time he had eaten?
Yesterday morning Ma’m, Billy said, as Martha prepared him some cold pork and cooked beans.  Billy was so hungry that he thought it was the best thing that he had ever tasted. Martha then told Billy to be careful in the woods because both union and rebel forces had been seen recently and there were stories of atrocities from both sides as they passed on their way.  Martha also said she had heard that Union forces had burned a farm up in Bowie a few weeks ago.  Billy stayed quiet and didn’t utter a word.

Billy Remained Quiet

After he finished his meal, Billy thanked Martha who had packed salt pork for him to take on his way.  Billy walked George to the water trough and waited as George drank.  He looked across the fields and he could sense what was coming.  This tranquil and pastoral scene was soon to be transformed into blood and gore as the epic struggle between North and South finished its first year. It was late fall in 1861 and Billy’s birthday was in two more weeks.  This was never the way he envisioned turning sixteen to be.

Billy thanked Martha, put the salted pork in his pouch, and remounted George. Martha said:  Whichever side you are riding to, may God be with you, young man.  Billy thought it was strange that she knew where he was heading without him telling.  He then also thought that he was probably not the first young traveler to stop at this farm for some kind words and sustenance. He rode back out in the field to thank the farmer, but when he got to the spot where he had met him before, the farmer was not there.  Billy wondered where he could have gone.  As he rode back down the cobbled dirt road, he noticed a sign at the end where it reconnected with the main road — Billett’s Farm. That wasn’t the name the farmer had told him when they were first introduced before.

Hawkins He Had Said

Billy worked his way towards Charlotte Hall.  From there he would head East to Pope’s Creek and try to get on the short ferry that would take him across the Potomac River and over to Virginia. Then Billy was sure he would finally be safe.  Tonight though, he only made it as far as Benedict Maryland, and he again needed to find secluded shelter for the night. Benedict was right along the banks of the Patuxent River where the farming was good, and the fishing was even better.

It was getting dark when Billy spotted what he was looking for.  There was a large farm up ahead with two large barns and three out buildings.  Billy sat inside the trees and waited for dark.  It was inside the outbuilding furthest to the east that he intended to stay the night.  As darkness covered the fields, Billy walked slowly towards the large shack.  He led George behind him by his lead and hoped that he would remain quiet.  George was an older horse, now fifteen, and seemed to always know what was required of him without asking.  Not that you can really ask a horse to do anything, but George did just seem to know.

Billy got to the outbuilding and put his ear to the back wall to see if he could hear anything from inside.  When he was sure it was safe, he walked around front to the door, opened it, and he and George quickly walked inside.  In the very dim moonlight, Billy could see that it was about 20’ X 20’ and had chopped wood stored against the back wall.  There were also two empty stalls and a loft up above about 10’ X 20.’  Billy decided to sleep downstairs in case he had to get away fast, and after tying George to the furthest back stall, he laid down in the stall to its right and fell fast asleep.
Billy doesn’t know how long he had been asleep, but all at once he heard the sound of clicking and could feel the cold hard press of steel against his left temple.  He woke up in a start and could see five men with lanterns standing over him in the stall.  As his eyes started to adjust, he noticed something strange.  Three of these five men were black.

Whatcha doin here boy, and where you headed, the biggest of the three black men asked him?  Billy knew that how he was to answer that question would probably determine whether he lived through the night. I’m headed to Virginia to try and find my older brother. Our farm was burned a few weeks ago and my mother and baby sister are now living with relatives.  I need to let my brother know, so he will know where to find us when the war is over.
I think this here boy’s fixin to join up with the Rebs, another of the black men shouted out.  Tell the truth boy, you’re headed to Richmond to sign up with old Jeff Davis ain’t you?  Billy lied and said he wasn’t sure of which side to fight for and that he had a brother fighting for each.  With that, the biggest of the three sat him on a barrel in the corner and began to talk again …
What you done tonight boy is decide to camp in a rural spot of the Underground Railroad.  You know what that is boy?  We have a real problem now because you knows where it’s at.  We can’t trust that you won’t tell nobody else and ruin other’s chances to get North and be free.  Billy just stared into the man’s face.  He had a strength mixed with kindness behind his eyes and for a reason Billy couldn’t understand, he felt safe in this man’s presence.

Son, we is makin our way over to Preston on the western shore where we catches a train to the North.  We have one more stop before there and that’s at the Hawkins place just thirty miles up the road.  Billy then knew why the stalls back at Martha’s barn had looked slept in.  He still wondered why the sign at the farm entrance had said Billett instead of Hawkins.  The black man then said: My names Lester, and those two men over there are brothers named Rayford and Link.  By now, the two white men were gone and only the four of them were left in the stall.

Since you say you haven’t made your mind up yet about which side to join, let me help you a little with your choosin.  Lester then went on to tell Billy that Rayford and Link had five other brothers and two sisters that were all killed while trying to escape to the North.  Not only were they killed, but they were tortured before being hanged just outside of Columbia South Carolina.  Lester then asked Rayford and Link to remove their shirts.  As they did, Lester took his lantern and shined it over both of their backs.  Both were totally covered with scars from the several lashings they had received on the plantation where they had worked back in South Carolina.  Lester said this was not unusual, and no man should be treated that way.  This was worse treatment than the slave owner would ever do to any of his animals.

Lester then said again: It’ll be a shame to have to **** you boy, but for the better good of all involved, I’ll do what I gots to do. With that, the three men walked outside, and Billy could hear them talking in hushed tones for what seemed like an hour.  Lester walked back inside alone and said: What’s your name son?  We’ve decided we're taking you with us up the road a piece.  You might come in handy if we need a hostage or someone with local knowledge of the area as we make our way t’wards Preston. Go back to sleep and we’ll wake you in an hour when it’s time to go.

Billy couldn’t sleep. It had been a long day of interrogation and darkness was again approaching.  He heard the men talking outside and from what they were saying, he realized they did all of their traveling at night hiding out in small barns and shacks like this during the light of day. He wondered now if he’d ever see home again.  He wondered even more about his previous decision to fight for the South.

In an hour, Lester came in and asked Billy if that was his horse in the stall next to him.  Billy said it was and Lester said: Get him outside, we’re going to load him with the chillens and then be on our way.  When Billy walked outside he saw eight other black people in addition to the three he had previously met.  It was a mother and father and five children all aged between three and eleven.  Lester hoisted the three smallest children up on George’s back, as the other two lined up to walk alongside.  They would make sure that none of the younger ones fell off as they maneuvered their way North through the trees at night.  The mother and father walked quietly behind, as the three large black men led the way with Link scouting up ahead for anything unforeseen.

Just before dawn, Billy recognized where they were.  They were at the end of that farm road he had just come down the day before, but the sign now read in faded letters Hawkins.  Billy looked back at the sign and he could see something written on the back.  As he squinted into the approaching sun, he could see the letters B-I-L-L-E-T-T written of the back of the board.  Billy was now more confused than ever.  Lester told them all to wait in the trees to the left of the farm road, as he took out three small rocks from his pants pocket. The sun was almost up and this was the most dangerous part of their day.

He approached the house slowly and threw the first stone onto the front porch roof — then followed by the second and then the third.  Without any lights being lit, the front door opened and Lester walked inside.  In less than a minute, he was back in the trees and said:  It now OK fo us to makes our way to the barn, where we’s gonna hide for the day.

After they were settled in the five empty stalls, Lester decided who would then take the first watch.  He needed to have two people on watch, one looking outside for approaching strangers and one watching Billy so he wouldn’t try to escape.  What Lester didn’t know was that Billy wasn’t sure he wanted to go anywhere right now and was starting to feel like he was more part of what was going on than any hostage or prisoner.

In another hour, Martha came in with two big baskets of food: Oh I see you have found my young friend Billy, I didn’t know that he worked for the road.  Lester told Martha that he didn’t, and he was still not sure of what to do with him.  Martha just looked down at Billy and smiled. I’m sure you’ll know the right thing to do Lester, and then she walked back outside toward the house. Lester told Billy that Martha was a staple on the Road to Preston and that without her, hundreds, maybe thousands of black slaves would now be dead between Virginia and Delaware.  He then told Billy that Martha was a widow, and both her husband and two sons had been killed recently at the Battle of Bull Run.  They had fought on the Confederate side, but Martha still had never agreed with slavery.  Her husband and sons hadn’t either, but they sympathized with everything else that the South was trying to do.

Billy’s head felt like it wanted to explode.  Here was a woman who had lost everything at the hands of Yankee soldiers and yet was still trying to help runaway slaves achieve freedom as they worked their way through Maryland.  Billy wanted to talk to Martha.  He also wondered who that man was in the field the previous morning when he had stopped to introduce himself.  He was sure at the time it had been Martha’s husband, but now Lester had just said that she was a widow. More than anything though, Billy wanted to talk to Martha!

Billy asked Lester when he returned from his watch if he could go see Martha inside the house.  Lester said: What fer boy, you’s be better off jus sittin quietly in this here barn. Billy told Lester that if he mentioned to Martha that he wanted to see her, he was sure she would know why and then agree to talk with him.  Lester said: I’ll think on it boy, now go get ya some sleep.  Oh by the way, did you get somethin to eat?  Matha’s biscuits are the best you’ll ever taste.  Billy said, Yes, and then tried to lie down and go to sleep.  His mind stayed restless though and he knew deep in his heart, and in a way he couldn’t explain, that Martha held the answer he was desperately in need of.

In about two more hours Martha returned with more food.  She wanted to dispense it among the children first, but three were still sleeping so she wrapped theirs and put it beside them where they lay.  After feeding the adults, she walked over to Billy and said: Would you help me carry the baskets back up to the house? Billy looked at Lester and he just nodded his head.  On the way back to the house Martha said: I understand you want to talk to me. I knew I should have talked with you before, but you were in such a hurry we never got the chance.  Let’s go inside and sit down while I prepare the final meal.

Martha then explained to Billy that she had been raised in Philadelphia.  She had met her husband while on a trip to Baltimore one summer to visit relatives.  Her husband had been working on a fishing boat docked in Londontown just south of Baltimore.  It was love at first sight, and they were married within three weeks.  Martha had only been back to Philadelphia twice since then to attend the funerals of both of her parents.  She then told Billy what a tragedy this new war was on the face of America … with brother fighting brother, and in some cases, fathers fighting their own sons. It not only divides us as a nation, but divides thousands of families, especially those along the Mason-Dixon line where our farm is located now.

She also told Billy her name was Billett, but they used Hawkins at night as the name of her Railway Stop along the Road. Hawkins was Martha’s maiden name and to her knowledge was not well known in these parts. Hawkins was also the name distributed throughout the South to runaway slaves who were trying to make their way North. Martha felt that if they were looking for someone in her area named Hawkins, they would have a hard time tracing it back to her.  The Courthouse that she and her husband had been married in burned down over fifteen years ago and all records of births, deaths, and marriages, had been consumed by that fire.

By reversing the sign at night to Hawkins, it allowed the runaway slaves to find her in the darkness while protecting her identity in the event that they were caught.  Under questioning, they might give up the name Hawkins while having no knowledge of the name Billett which in these parts was well known. Martha also told Billy that she had nothing left to lose now except her dignity and pride.  Her two sons and husband had been taken at Bull Run and now all she wanted was for the war to end and for those living imprisoned in slavery to be set free and released. Her dignity and pride forced her to try and do everything she could to help.

When Billy asked Martha … How did you know the right thing to do? she said: The right thing is already planted there deep inside you.  All that’s required is for you to be totally honest with yourself to know the answer.  Martha then turned back to her cooking.

Lester then walked into the kitchen and said: Martha Ma’m, what’s we gonna do wit dis boy?  Martha only looked at Billy and smiled as she said, Lester, this boy’s gonna do just fine.  Lester then looked at Billy and said: Somethin you wanta say to me son? Billy asked if he could go feed his horse and then come back in a few minutes.  Lester said that he could but not to take too long.

When Billy walked back into the barn, George was tied to a wall cleat in the far left corner.  He walked him out to the water trough in the dark and then back inside where he gave him another half- bucket of oats.  He looked in George’s eyes for that surety that George always had about him.  Just as he started to look away, George ****** up his head and looked to his left.  The youngest of the black children was walking toward George with something in her hand.  She was with her older sister, and she was carrying an apple — an apple for George. George took the apple from her hand as he nudged the side of her face with his nose.  Billy looked at the scene, and, in the moment’s revelation, knew instantly the right thing for him to do.

Billy went back inside where Lester and Martha were drinking coffee by the fire.  Billy told Lester that NOBODY knew these backwaters like he and his brothers. He also told Lester that by joining his cause he would never be faced with the possibility of meeting either of his brothers on the field of battle.  This seemed to strike a nerve with Lester who had a brother of his own fighting for the south somewhere in Louisiana.  In Louisiana, many of the black’s were free men and fought under General Nathan Bedford Forrest where they would comport themselves with honor and bravery throughout the entire war.

Billy then told Lester he had never agreed with slavery, and his father had always refused to own them.  This made the work harder on he and his brothers, and some of their neighbors ostracized them for their choice.  Billy said his father didn’t care and told him many times that … No man should ever own another or Lord over him and be able to tell him what he can or cannot do.

Lester then asked Billy what he knew about these backwaters.  Billy said he knew every creek and tributary along the Patuxent River and all the easiest places to get across and get across safely where no one could see.  Lester said they had a friendly ferry across the bay to Taylors Island, but many times the hardest part was getting across the Patuxent to where they were now.  From here, they would then decide whether to go across the bay to Preston or head further North to other friendly stops along the Road to Delaware. Billy said he would be most helpful along those stops further North and on this Western side of the bay as he knew the terrain so well.

For four more years Billy worked out of Martha’s farm hiding and transporting runaway slaves on their way North.  He would make occasional trips back to Bowie to fortify the barn that the Union soldiers had not burned when they torched his house that day.  His family’s barn would become the main Railroad Stop before taking those last steps to freedom that lay just 100 miles beyond in the free state of Delaware.

After reconstruction, Billy went on to become a lawyer and then a judge in Calvert County Maryland.  Martha had left Billy the farm in her will, and he now used it as a haven for black people who were freely emigrating from the south and needed a place to stay and rest before continuing on to the Industrial cities of the northeast.

When Martha was dying, Billy asked her who that mysterious farmer was that was out tending her field that morning when he first stopped by so many years ago? Martha said:Why don’t you know; that was my father, Ethan Hawkins. He worked that field every day since my husband and two boys were killed.  I’m surprised he let you see him.  I thought I was the only one who ever knew he was there.  But, but, but, your father died many years ago I thought.  Martha looked at Billy with those beautiful and gentle eyes and just smiled …

Seeing him that day had changed Billy and the direction
of his life forever, making what seemed like King
Solomon’s choice — the right and only one for him.


Kurt Philip Behm
550 · Dec 2016
Destroying The Gift
Kurt Philip Behm Dec 2016
Money, wrapping paper
  of disowned creation

Destroying the gift,
—laying claim to the box

(Jamestown New York: May, 2011)
549 · Sep 2022
Undercover
Kurt Philip Behm Sep 2022
Darkness endows the small
and the ordinary
with poetic power
Falling with the fallen
rising with the chosen
Reaching for
forgiveness
—and the absence of pain

(Dreamsleep:  September, 2022)
547 · May 2021
Cutting Both Ways
Kurt Philip Behm May 2021
Trying to defend
what you cannot describe

All life on the edge
—to affirm or deny

(Dreamsleep: May, 2021)
545 · Jan 2017
The Future Spun
Kurt Philip Behm Jan 2017
I took you into my arms,
  to ask about tomorrow

But then you went and stole my heart,
from dreams of yesterday

Reaching deep inside my pain,
  you took away the sorrow

All hurt now gone and future spun,
—the present here to stay

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)
541 · Jul 2018
Divided And Split
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2018
Do you have to do something
  you loathe or then hate

To finance the thing
  that you love

Do you plod to a tune
  out of step and off key

To dance freely with what
  comes from above

Do the moments you steal
  and those stolen from you

Stand opposed or conjoined
  at the hip

Are those times rare and precious
  to freely aspire

Worth a life lived divided
   —and split

(Train from White River Junction: March, 2016)
540 · Jan 27
The Garden Beneath
You bloom where  
you’re planted
the Sage
told the Priest

Your flowers
won’t blossom
if distant
and bleak

As fate
seeds your valley
the force
reaches out

Reseeding
creation
in whispers
— that shout

(The New Room: January, 2025)
539 · Aug 2024
Nexum
Kurt Philip Behm Aug 2024
Titling a poem
or naming a child

Which process harder
  the future beguiled

“A Rose Is A Rose ...”
till maybe it’s not

Called do they answer
— once dubbed and begot

(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
537 · Dec 2016
My Last Breath
Kurt Philip Behm Dec 2016
What will they say,
  when I’m gone

What will I write,
   as I take
   my last breath

What will they say,
  when I’m gone

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)
533 · Nov 2016
New Space
Kurt Philip Behm Nov 2016
It’s those desolate interludes,
  that create the new space

For our souls to exhale,
—and our dreams to escape

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)
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