FDR

17 04 2005

I have a bit of homework so I’ll comment more on FDR later. Meanwhile I wrote a poem on heroism just now that applies to the heroism of FDR. This doesn’t count as politics, okay.

The Walking

It’s something you can’t say,
The next hero’s led astray,
And all those times you thought,
That the hero can be bought,
There is a certain price,
Of the hero born in ice,
Rising above it all,
Isn’t without its falls,
And I’ll tell you just what’s more,
It’s the rising that makes the score,
And even though you wished,
It’s not the soaring that was missed,
Something in his blood,
Something brought him up,
Took to his paralyzed wings,
Made him more than a simple thing,
It’s what you never found out,
A man who took his town,
And saved his democracy,
That oh, just was ailing-
And needing and trusting and bleeding,
An economy dying and new life still breeding,
It was all coming down,
Arose the cripple who wouldn’t back out.

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