Uncle Don Ii Poem by Bill Grace

When Eleanor Roosevelt came to the school
I was too young to understand the significance
of The Great Lady coming up Uncle Don's walk.
I will never understand the man
nor the depth of light and shadow that drove him.
Given our last conversation
I believe there was a true artist buried deep within
who, perhaps unknown to self, hungered for authorship.
He was both captain and captive of a team
who long ago
built a city on a hill
that gave a light that shines
even today for youth at risk.