In the twenty year race that Colin Powell entered
Expecting to end with a lieutenant colonel's leaf
You can not underestimate the benefit of being
A wise and daily briefer of the President,
Not all can have such singular good fortune.
Still I reflect on all those hares
Who broke their main springs
Unable to grasp the Secretary's wisdom
Reaching for stars that turned to bars
For at least one who I knew to be the best.
This thing of hierarchy is a necessary evil
Where committees can not be convened to determine
From which roof top fire is coming
Battle is no place for democracy or consensus.
Cream may rise to the top or it may not
Position in a milk bottle
Can not gurantee the depth of butter fat;
The driver here not so much money
As pride - long held a deadly sin -
My spirit impoverished friends
Who will do anything to win
Would do better to flow towards
What was once the future Secretary's prize,
To release the dreadful drag of a fevered ambition.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem