Ode to Older Brother

Look out ahead, there goes Older Brother.
Blazing the trail before any other.
For us, we can follow on the same path.
But we cannot surpass his aging math.

First to be born and first to grow older,
First out the door, his steps seem much bolder.
When people ask, “Well, yes, he’s my brother” –
In his shadow of fame, here’s another.

To not be compared, we may try new ground;
In our own arena, our strengths are found.
To complement instead of to compete,
He led us to our own challenges to meet.

So, thanks, Brother, for your role in my life;
To beckon me on, to lessen my strife;
To clear a path, with more room to the side;
To set a pace, for me to find my stride.

Frozen in Time

Oh, woe to the statue frozen in time,
No way to answer now for a past crime.
Perhaps it was legal when you did live,
But by today’s laws, some will not forgive.

You, living citizen, may speak your mind –
Our rights are the same, you truly should find.
You may offend me, and perhaps enrage,
But if so, no gripe, if I too engage.

Majority may rule, but not suppress
Ideals of others they need to express.
You need not replace my ideas with yours –
We should resolve this without starting wars.

History of conquest is that of crime –
Both winners and losers harmed for all time.
Bloodied by evils never to erase;
Peace halts the action, but not the disgrace.

And later they may try to reconcile,
After years and regrets build a sorry pile.
Victors offer losers some platitudes
And ask both to change their old attitudes.
.
They ask to be forgiven their success
And past mutual vengeance to excess.
Let bygones be gone and go on from here –
May not be what the others want to hear.

I have seen statues, silent in the park,
With no idea of their long deceased spark.
Perhaps a plaque to tell me their name,
Maybe a few words about their past fame.

I have never seen their worst faults proclaimed;
Virtues are extolled and vices left unnamed.
But if you know enough of history,
You can launch into angry sophistry.

You may argue with that cold block of stone,
But it will not answer, never atone.
It is not a he (or she) anymore,
Just an expression, inert on the floor.

That’s right, it is an idea, just not your own –
You may object and request to dethrone.
But tolerance of your thought and ideal
Arise from your caring how others feel.

If you strike out with angry destruction,
Some understand frustration’s seduction.
But the mob’s cheer isn’t the vote of support
To persuade in public opinion’s court.

So, let’s you and I talk and decide this
And leave the statues in their uncaring bliss.
We might forgive what we may not forget,
And reform a future, with the past set.