Mango Walk

by all the history we do not know

the pain of truth and life that is not slow

but constant motion towards what was gained

by long ancestral struggle we attained

some measure of the fair but the true flow

of justice and of freedom will not grow

just from our acts much else must be ordained

no victory is final that we learn

from childhood on and every hill we reach

turns out to be just one below the peak

so we clomp upwards while the seasons burn

still wondering just what it is we teach

and what exactly is the prize we seek

with joy or anger since the rules are neat

and clear not heavy in this summer heat

we have no reason now for fear or doubt

just worry at the thought of coming drought

and utter silence in the noontime street

while on the air so many voices bleat

but none can tell us what it is about

upon the ground a shadow and a sign

of what the times have shown and what they mean

to those who read the signals straight and plain

yet we are waiting since the shades align

to form a boundary just past the seen

where those inside may sigh for coming rain

it bids us rest and dream of milky light

of other places where with fresher sight

the follies of the seasons slower creep

may well be judged by those who always keep

a weather eye for things to come out right

as safe from mortal horror that's the plight

of one who knows just what hides down in sleep

there's better clarity in the grey dawn

a different heat another sort of life

to be confronted choices to be met

one fearful terrapin seen on the lawn

draws in its head for fear of hurt or strife

but then goes on with no thought or regret

in doubled phrases and in words which bite

so deeply that our hearts lose their delight

and all is darkness life becomes so bleak

all hope is lost in getting what we seek

and every choice leads only into blight

this sort of magic turns high noon to night

leaving us all dispirited and weak

what's absent here is just the honest word

uttered by decent souls who know that kind

regard goes further than law's formal writ

but what we have is odourific turd

showing its presence even to the blind

making it clear that all are in the shit

mark this for turn of hope or choice or chance

that when we rise our hearts to joy are turned

instead of knowing that our work had earned

such tiny wages but the real advance

we did not realize nor yet enhance

those ways in which the greater fires burned

but did not eat up all of those who yearned

to set their feet free in the happy dance

now we have given you our honest word

and you fall silent it is not enough

that you do nothing to prevent our walk

along the forest path where golden bird

is seen at sunset matters not so tough

must in the end be subjects of your talk

since each of us is placed just where we ought

to find the truth of all the things we're taught

which is much more that what life must abrade

with its rough edges we are ever frayed

broken and blinded knowing that we fought

both hard and well but losing were caught

in the old trap and sent back to the shade

so much to tell about where we were cast

the clawing upwards that's another fight

though none will listen to the loser's tale

nor should they we recall the faded past

while today's children look towards the light

and have no patience with the ones who fail

within the bounds of the sublunar realm

is nowise daunting the facts overwhelm

only the weaker minds instead each debt

incurred in course of duty or regret

is paid in full by shade of oak or elm

in memory of the old man with cracked helm

by one who can't resist that final bet

each night is sacrificed so that my rest

becomes a loss that's added to the pile

just one more line that goes into the jest

another little twist those are in style

the truth is always harder than the lie

that's what they tell us then they say goodbye

faster than lightning reaches for each throat

enforcing silence there's a bitter note

we can detect even when on the fly

a universe of difference going by

while on one side are those eager to gloat

over the losers in the daily vote

our only option here seems rather dry

what has been paid does not in full restore

the world we had but what we tell each child

will matter in the end since their delight

in the large world will become so much more

absorb the truth and gather in the wild

on that fine day when their strong hearts take flight

so easily a single dullish cloud

before the sun and all brightness is cowed

without resistance we can never grab

the moment back it's cast upon the slab

and we are from all justice disendowed

who were not long ago happy and proud

but now have come to the realm of the crab

the world is many things other than fair

since what we have we always have to earn

on terms that change each day and are not right

when most we want the best of things to dare

but never mind all that is good must burn

and from the fire we gain a better light

but now and when it happens i must leave

not just this place but all that i conceive

to be in tune with senses that agree

in total beauty that we all can see

in that one moment when we cease to grieve

for all our losses that i must believe

will become true for what is the new me

we fall into the silence one by one

who were a certain band and knew our way

in the strong moment of unpolished youth

but there's still light the time is far from done

and there is much to do while it is day

that is my story and it is the truth