Posted by
Mike Silverman on Thursday, September 25, 2008 12:08:57 PM
Once again I venture into the brooding mysts of my inner muse and craft a poetic ode to the candidates. Here then is my tribute to the Presidential campaign season. I call it....,
WHERE WE STAND
Once, upon a campaign season
As I sorted lies from reason
What was true and what was treason
In the crisp September air,
As I sat here watching wearily
Savage advertisements cheerily
Cast from people who Imperially
Deigned to call them fair,
I heard a sound from ages past
Tapping on the frosted glass
That stared out on a darkened pass
The moon could scarcely light,
In a clearing there I saw
A pair of ghostly figures thaw
From out the icy darkened maw
Of the deeply wooded night.
Though the glass was wet with rain,
I saw the frame of John McCain
Standing there despite the pain
From injuries long past,
Not looking at me, nor away,
He gazed into the molten fray
Of an eerie evening shadow-play
That the rising mist had cast,
Unfolding like a savage dream
Within that cloud of forest steam
I saw a throng compelled to scream
As buildings burst and fall,
Fire burns, explosions roar,
People drop to rise no more
No difference whether rich or poor,
Terror takes them all.
John McCain then reached his hand
Into that brutal vision and
Dispelled that fog from where it spanned,
"Not on my watch!" he said.
The second figure there was framed
In the misty light and dappled rain
Barack Obama stood unchained
From the shackles of the past,
He too observed a drama twist
By the flickering of a will-o'-wisp
Where light and shadow might be missed
By other untrained eyes,
A divided road eclipsed the night,
One side black and one side white,
Lit by a flame of a hateful light
On a grimly burning cross,
The price that generations paid,
Waiting for that promise made
That here, despite a person's shade
You'll have an equal chance.
Both men bring perspective
On America's objective
Despite the rank invective
And a sharp opposing stance,
Back within my solemn room
In the failing light
of the evening gloom
I came to a conclusion soon
That only this compels,
From the first intent of freedom
The scope has been more grand
Than any single eye had seen
Or any dream had planned,
Whoever holds this country's reins
Can find a steady hand
By remembering the price we paid
For the ground on which we stand.
- Mike Silverman, Milford MA