Gold of Youth
Before the fall is the example to all;
Before we sinned, we sensed with
five senses everything we did, and
we smiled the free smile of innocence.
We must go back… How can it be done?
Is the return possible, in the smile
of another? A “forlorn and shipwrecked
brother,” who upon seeing you,
sees him or herself, takes “heart again,”
you make friends.
We make amends.
Can a government go back, and
apologize for JFK? MLK? RFK?
Vietnam? Naming a library “Nixon” and
funding it?
Simple changes can make a difference.
Call it “The National Crime Library”
and I’d surely visit…
De-classify all the documents, air the
laundry, admit when we err, and let us
grieve together the assassinations
of Peace-seekers.
Meanwhile to the War-monger I
reach out my hand… I love you, man,
and you cringe and call us homophobic
names for cigarettes and burning logs.
You cringe because you reject what
Daddy never gave you. You resent,
now, what Mom could not supply, and
instead of expressing love:
You drink alcohol and linger in
homicidal suicidal states of mind,
laughing like Beavis and Butthead in
a circle jerk of pot smoke and hidden
regret.
You want to do more, but the mountain
to climb out of pain seems too high,
too great, so let’s get high—
But I tell you now: It’s not too late.
Turn around. Justice Department:
turn around… Make this country less like
a joke, more like a newborn child.
Strive for good, be bold, and when we
err, admitting and laughing is better than
that scared proud circle of pot…
Bothering the neighbors, lying to the
press, creating your own media branch
to cloud more and more people with your
lies… You think you can hide, but the truth
is never closer than the guilt that burns
inside—let it out!!
And let us heal. And so let us return
to the Gold of Youth. Reborn, we see
no enemies but fear, FDR had something
there—
And we shake hands and die, so the truth
may in the morning sunlight live, grow, die
and live—
Die and Live, die and live, die
To Live
Bill Watkins, Traveling Poet 