Our Way With History

And how shall we confront history?
The part we are a part of.
With a doomsday philosophy?
A reverence for a Judgment Day?
When all comes to an end?

Where is the monument
to the unknown dead ?
That nobody quite remembers ?
The mock grave so
that there can be
flowers and ceremonies?

The small box for
a turtle playing dead
until it happened  A glorious end,
this Judgment Day begs the question
We who are fearful
will try harder.  Those who do not ask
 are disposable

Or shall we be pagans
and expect repetitions and recycling?
Like starting school in September
to learn better and pass on
to a higher grade.

Or  laugh at man's effort to put
miscellaneous events into linearity?.
Somehow Cause and Effect.
And that leads to irony
and a wry smile as we console
the bearer of the turtle box.

Atoms are so small and skies
so big. Is there any sense
in asking for road maps?

Better to change the Firestones
and insist on history
the way we wished it were.
A hundred men in a sunken sub
to recount it
a hundred different ways
but never wrote it down.
And we shall
come to tell their story
again and again
But sheer accident
would be too tragic
to succeed as history.


If you've any comments on this poem L.Fullington would be pleased to hear from you.

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