TIMES SQUARE

BROADWAY AND 42ND STREET

Midtown Manhattan

Center of the Theater District

Here Broadway diagonally bisects the island

and 42nd Street cuts it in half.

Last Night, Eight bocks north of here

at the Winter Garden, I saw "CATS".

T.S. Eliot in New York City.

Could this be, his "still point

of the turning world"?

I am standing at the top section

of a narrow triangle. Surrounded by

people and buildings, buildings and people.

Behind me is a giant COCA COLA sign

flashing white on red, with letters

3 STORIES HIGH.

In front is a big blue and white

computerized sign reading:

MINOLTA ‑ CAMERA, COPIERS, VIDEOS!

Two sides of another building are illuminated

with FUJI COLOR FILM,

RED AND BLACK on a bright field of NEON GREEN.

A graphics display shows, "Network to Tokyo",

just below,

Far Eastern news PARADES across an Electronic

Ticker Tape 10 FEET HIGH.

Native New Yorker’s call it the Zipper!

From this point, city streets become

impregnated with a fury of sights and sounds.

From this point, the dance begins.

I turn to look downtown,

twin towers reaching upward

reflect our pursuit of affluence.

Wall Street and the surrounding

Financial District seems eons away.

A church band is playing on the square

Warm black African American faces singing and

flashing smiles instead of advertisements.

Yes, I know, in a way it is the same.

But, they are singing:

"This little light of mine,

This little light of mine.

Let it shine, Let it shine.

All the time, All the time."

For an odd reason it reminds me

of home and white wooden churches

in deep East Texas.

Can't you see those Gospel singing Choir members,

swaying in their pews, and dancing in the aisles.

The band members seem to be full of

such innocence and faith.

I am at once both humbled by and

thankful for their music.

I too want to be part of this dance and

I too want to be touched by God’s Holy Spirit.

A Bag Lady off the street moves towards me

smiling and I smile back.

Her face is etched and carved with wrinkles

that map out the rough course of her life.

Our eyes touch, for a brief moment we connect,

and share a passing thought.

Even now I can see her half toothless smile,

brighter than a thousand neon signs.

She passes by and continues on her way,

Crosses Broadway towards 8th Avenue,

Not once looking back.

But I can hear her all the same;

Singing, softly singing,

"this little light of mine . . . . . ."

"let it shine, let it shine . . . . ."

I am doing the same.

R.P. Starbuck

September 2006: One of these poetic images has changed forever now. Since September 11, 2001, the twin “World Trade Center” towers and surrounding buildings in lower Manhattan are gone. It’s been five years, and we commonly refer to the site as “Ground Zero”. It is everlastingly etched in our national and global consciousness; we have come to see it as a sacred place, marked as hollowed and consecrated ground. Even as the plans for rebuilding moves forward, ethereal images of the “twin towers” still remain. We see them so clearly; achingly brilliant in our minds they reflect the eternal spirit and memory of those who perished there, turning this part of lower Manhattan into a sacred landscape. If you listen carefully you can hear the power of each single soul calling us to let our own light shine…

"This little light of mine...

Let it shine, Let it shine…

All the time, All the time..."