Day: March 10, 2020

The march was to the west
Manifest destiny
This was not a contest
It was a group affair
They looked grim
After days of start and stops
Unpolished
Treading on rough terrain
Under unforgiving sun
Laundry done in streams
Dried on wagons
Dripping water like the
Tears which filled their eyes
This was no outing
No picnic
There were the strong hearted
Always optimistic
Smelling victory
Sensing the end of the march
But there was no end
It went on and on
The languished fell
Too weak to continue
They accepted their fate
This was a known possibility
Still the effort was worth it
Now over for them
They did not think as losers or victims
They were winners
Helped open the door
Paved the road
The Santa Fe Trail
Heroes to all who would become dispirited
A way of life
We stand on their shoulders
Humbly
 
Stanski
March 10, 2020 ^

A man
Bent, a bent figure
Carved from life
I spotted him
Wonder took over
Who is he and
Why is he as he is?
Would a picture taken
Capture his essence
Immortalize him
He shows no pain
He wanders into traffic
Which slows for him
Horns blow
He ambles
His destination?
No one knows
Other than him
He loses himself
Into the crowd
Vanishes
But not from my thoughts
Life goes on
It unfolds in formidable ways
Blessed are the meek
 
Stanski
March 10, 2020 ^