54 years ago
many of us
took ourselves
and our grades
tres seriously,
reasoning that thus
we wouldn't later be living
penuriously.
Yet we sensed
if we surrendered
to be graded
we mightacquiesce
to be degraded.
So the problem was already there.
How to keep
our spirits free
while successfully navigating life
materially.
Oh, a few of us were heirs
and therefore
didn't have to care.
Didn't have to sacrifice
orto eat the air.
But most of us
were ready, America and Amherst,
to put our straight
or queer
shoulders tothe wheel
even if we weren't sure yet
which wheel,
weren't sure
if we were on our way
to becoming brain surgeons,
novelists, financiers,
prosecutors,
defenders of the meek
and weak,
painters,
yessers,
or ain'ters,
winners, losers,
or some unimaginable
mixture
of the two.
Onward we soldiered,
leaving suicides,
the terminally ill,
dropouts and transfers
in our wakes;
accumulating
wives and children and mistresses
and 2nd wives and 3rd wives
and houses
and 2nd and 3rd houses
and cars
and 401K's
along the way.
And now we find ourselves
nearing our final reckonings,
shaken by Parkinson's,
dimmed by dementia,
rotted by diabetes,
devoured by cancer,
gnawed by regret,
mortified by detours
and defeats,
by steps not taken,
fulsomely congratulating ourselves
for our triumphs,
standing shoulder to shoulder
with the broken ranks
of our surviving
brothers,
staring,
blinded,
into the
setting sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem