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Great Deeds
In memory of Pat Nixon and the many others who gave more than their lives.
A
great man was coming to speak to us,
To
explain the dreams we ought to see,
To
wrap them in shrouds of hatred, tied up with
ribbons of glitzy approbation.
So
my friends and I went down to hear the
senator speak.
Or
maybe he was a governor.
Or something.
I forget which.
We
stood a long two hours watching in the
sunbeams of the late afternoon
Waiting
and waiting for this wonderful speech.
But when
at last the great man rose to declaim, I
found that I could not take my eyes off
The
tired woman sitting behind the podium,
Staring
straight ahead,
Her
face never moving, yet always beaming
radiantly.
That
is, if dead things can beam radiantly.
She
was, I’m sure, waiting for it all to
terminate,
But
she had no hope that her time would ever be
her own,
For she was led about upon a
leash none could see
But she could
feel.
Or was it time itself that was led
about upon the leash of fading hopes?
At
the end of that allotted time, her body rose
smoothly and followed him off the stage.
It
was a famous speech, full of hope and phrases
often quoted in the aftermath.
Or
so I have been told.
It was a great
speech.
But
costly.
More costly than the five dollars I contributed to the campaign.
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