Wind Swept
I would love to be the tall angular man striding on the
Craggy precipice
Holding my people back until I've peered ahead for their safety
Passing an outstretched strong hand over the yet
Unconquered lands
But I am a short jester in a fools cap
In someone else's skin that fits like a cheap suit
Wearing a clown's costume
I whisper into a dark night instead of shouting at the wind
As strong men do
I awake weeping at some frightful dream
Rather than striding from a sleeping place in command of the
Morning
No one hears my muffled whimperings
I do not voice opinions with convictions or bark orders for others
To follow
My obit will be two lines:
He lived
He died
There will be no pictures from my youth of a strong jawed player
Planting a flag, winning the day, tales from teary-eyed remorseful
Mourners
Those who have written their mark on future
With descendants and stories of their human dignity and
Achievements
When memory ceases of the few who thought that they knew me
Are gone
So will I be