from this week in August, 2010 (I was 65)
I’ve been give credit
for the memory of joy
I gave to someone’s son
in a classroom thirty years ago
At one time there must have been
something actual and tangible
that was the object of that joy
I don’t know what it was
and neither does the boy
It has the same value
as a miss-remembered dream
I’ve helped my kids be miserable
by talking about a world and life
I could never deliver
I promised we would make it better
I said their efforts would be rewarded
that they would see justice grow from goodness
that co-operation would replace competition
that radiant beauty would be recognized as truth
Though I myself had known none of that
and should have said so long ago
No comments:
Post a Comment