In Praise Of Recreationists Poem by David Welch

In Praise Of Recreationists

I used to be one who thought it was weird
when grown adults dressed like yesteryear,
and tried to recreate battles long gone,
my sarcastic young mind though it all wrong.
Thought it was bizarre, grown-up make-believe,
and I said this as a fan of history,
but to see adults playing out these parts,
all running around, acting out a L.A.R.P.,
I did not understand the point of the scene,
surely the past was better shown through movies…

But despite these thoughts, I still saw a few,
saw how a person in homespun would move,
heard the barrage of a full musket-volley,
smelled the black powder on the air sullied,
watched the hurried loading of the next ball,
saw them face walls of guns, and still stand tall.
to see it all in the flesh gives it a weight
that no special effect can yet replicate,
can't feel pressure from cannons, going in waves,
or the tremors, the footfalls, of men on parade.

It took me a while, but I got the point,
the past isn't words, but a tale to enjoy,
to understand it is to live and to feel
what our ancestors felt, what to them was real,
when seen first hand, it's history no more,
just another present, to live and explore.
Put that tricorn up, with musket in hand,
and you're right in it, marching with the men,
so praise recreationists, and what they do,
for bringing to life the past that made you.

Friday, November 16, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: appreciation,experience,growth,history,rhyme
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