Hemming Park

“Hemming Park” for the Jacksonville, Florida, United States Poems by Patricia Louise McGurk, Copyright 2016

Posted on December 12, 2016 by Patricia Louise McGurk

Was I ever important as a middle-aged woman with a name tag or just a piece of masking tape with my name written on it quickly stuck to my shirt, uh-oh, blouse? Who noticed me the American, anyway? I will be the champion, I Patricia Louise McGurk, say that for the children who receive no bright pretty light sticks or light savers to light the dark night at Hemming Park in Jacksonville, Florida. Those children who have no costume, as I never had one in London, England, South Africa or south Africa or anywhere not anywhere did I have a costume to wear with the others.

I was taught no dance steps at two or three years old and I was told, that I was too “dirty” or was not “pretty” or talented enough to be in the England “singing talent” or the American show, with the light sticks and the dancing at the beginning of my life. I will be their champion, the children like I was once, by writing this poem.

In the dramatic darkness of the park, I remember another deathly park with the same name when I was a young child. The prettiness is only evident in the children or the innocence overall with light-sticks or “savers” an alternate light source, overall. It was not a master race nor really masterly but in the variety. I thought then, perhaps dreamed, masterly in the variety of people collected or assembled here in the United States or other places like this in the world.

Was I ever important as a middle-aged woman with a name tag or just a piece of masking tape with my name written on it quickly stuck to my shirt, uh-oh, blouse? Who noticed me the American, anyway? I will be the champion, I Patricia Louise McGurk, say that for the children who receive no bright pretty light sticks or light savers to light the dark night at Hemming Park in Jacksonville, Florida. Those children who have no costume, as I never had one in London, England, South Africa or south Africa or anywhere not anywhere did I have a costume to wear with the others.

I can’t give you a free snack or hor d’oevres of any type because, he said, you are a slave. You will never get any free food from me, he said to me – the starving child zi once was.

Come back or return with a better identity and I might give you one free snack at Founder’s Food Hall. Come back with a better personae, the vendor said to me. I will never give you free food.

by Patricia Louise McGurk
email: Patricialouisemcgurk@gmail.com