POETRY PAGE TWO
COLUMN SIXTY-TWO, AUGUST 1, 2001
(Copyright © 2001 The Blacklisted Journalist)
Tavalaro, 66, who suffered a stroke in 1967, has been a wheelchair-bound
quadriplegic ever since. Unable to
speak or to move but with her mind intact, she can, however, turn her head
enough to activate a switch with her chin, accessing the alphabet on the screen
of her "Vanguard." With the "Vanguard", a communication device
manufactured by the Prentke Romich Company of Wooster, Ohio, she accordingly
writes poetry every day at the
Beach Terrace Nursing Center in Long Beach, New York, where she is confined.
Herewith is one of her manuscripts, a poem entitled, The Hour is Blue.
For a longer poem by Julia Tavalaro. entitled Print Out Blocks, click
For a longer poem by Julia Tavalaro. entitled Print Out Blocks, click on /column70l1.html .
And leave me
With grandma floating
just above me
just out of reach
She floats through
purple and gold roses
And calls for me to come
Come come come
I will give you back your hands
Desire was always my own
Is she there?
Can she heal me?
This world is sad
Listening and waiting
The hour is blue
and fading ##
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