On the Symbolism of Language
at the Time of the Restoration
of the Statue of Liberty

I dedicate this poem to my husband, Haigaz Kaboolian,
who arrived at Ellis Island from Armenia,
and to our first born, our daughter , Diane,
who was born the morning after our first Fourth of July celebration
as a married couple

The form of a sentence
is either a compliment to its content
or it complements that content,
or it is, or does, both.

In a sentence of poise and precision
each word has its proper position
from which it cannot be budged.

This last statement contains information
which, by its limiting connotation,
remains boxed-in.
Wrapped in accepted, unquestioned beliefs
it is sentence-cemented,
allowing no insight,
till, all of a sudden, in one precious night,
a tree of life lives
that sprouts roots in the mind.
These roots cannot be confined, or even defined,
in all the concrete of their counterpart kind.

Now in-sights firmly glow in gleanings.
Mind pictures speak. They mount in meanings.
Strong winds of thought, with vehemence,
sweep words like autumn leaves together,
which our feelings ride like weather,
set vowels, consonants, to dancing
and, like impatient horses prancing,
set themselves free in rock-rhyming rhythm
and in great “inner” harmony.

There follow strange associations,
strangely familiar in their way,
some few choice alliterations,
intermittently, a pause,
poignant, spiked with punctuation.
In temporary complete comprehension
sentences from that demand attention.

Ready to quench all thirst for wisdom
answers form on thought horizons,
pockets full of information.

Hit by instant insight flashes, these burst,
send forth their words in splashes
to tumble fearless into freedom
pleading to be chosen
for the fireworks of the mind.
Awareness grows.

From wordless numbers words are torn;
others follow, and still others.
There is no end.
It’s a new morn’ in a world full of hope:

FOR GOOD NEWS IS BORN.

There she is,

symbol of liberty, newly restored,
torch shining bright.

In a one-of-a-kind
Fourth of July celebration
fireworks light up the night.

Flowers and rockets burst into the air/
Love and good-will towards all,
everywhere.

Ute Kaboolian
(7/1/1986)