Songs of Eretz Poetry
Review is
pleased to present “Eastside Boys, We Ran” by Ron Wallace. Mr. Wallace is an Oklahoma native of
Scots-Irish, Choctaw, Cherokee, and Osage ancestry and is the author of seven
volumes of poetry published by TJMF Publishing of Clarksville, Indiana. He is a
three-time finalist in the Oklahoma Book Awards and a three-time winner of the
Oklahoma Writers Federation Best Book of Poetry Award. His work has been
recently featured in: Oklahoma Today, The
Long Islander, Concho River Review, cybersoleil journal, Cobalt, Red Earth
Review, Dragon Poets Review, Sugar Mule, Cross-timbers, Gris-Gris, Oklahoma
Poems and Their Poets, and a number of other magazines and
anthologies. For copies of his books, please visit
www.RonWallacePoetry.com.
Eastside Boys, We Ran
Ron Wallace
Eastside boys, we ran;
we ran straight up Southeast Second
to Mississippi to
Texas to Alabama and Arkansas,
over the Santa Fe tracks to the stop sign on East Main.
We ran down gravel roads
that cut across our neighborhood, and past the old cemetery.
We rolled under barbed wire into pasture grass
with no roads to follow
we ran.
We ran from George Washington Elementary
to Roy Child’s
Grocery Store;
we ran the bases and then back home
to widowed mothers and to moms who made us cookies
to fathers who
drank too much,
and dads who taught us how to cast a fishing line
we ran.
We ran from poverty that stalked its prey
on our side of the tracks,
from pasts that trapped us in seines like minnows
in a shallow creek.
We ran from ghosts and self-fulfilling prophecies,
but never once from a fight.
We ran into the record books,
and we ran into the law,
to God, the Army
and college
we ran into the world and into our lives;
we ran.
Eastside boys, we ran
some of us are
running still,
running out of time and out of space,
but running all the same into the fire and out of the flames
of a long-gone neighborhood.
We run
we run
faster than the rest.
Poet’s Notes: "Eastside Boys, We Ran" is
largely autobiographical. I was born the son of a cop in a small Oklahoma town,
Durant, and raised on the wrong side of those tracks in the poem. And my
friends and I did run. We covered the ground in daily adventures not realizing
for years why many of our roads were dirt and gravel and those across
the tracks were paved. We had to be better than the rest to rise, so we ran on
into lives of wide variety; some of us rose above the confinements of the poor,
but most succumbed to it in one form or another.
For
me after years of carrying a chip on my shoulder, I grew to see how that
upbringing made me into the man I had become, how the near poverty
for me and absolute poverty of others shaped my world views and drove me to be
better and care for those who tried to rise but did not. I am proud that in my
little town, still with boundaries delineated by those same tracks like many
other small towns, I can't read my work without this poem being requested
by someone in the audience.
Editor’s Note: I enjoy the rhythm of this poem--song-like, complete with a
refrain--and the way the metaphors enhance the gritty sentiment of the
theme. TJMF Publishing of Clarksville, Indiana
published “Eastside Boys” in Cowboys and
Cantos December 2013.
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