The
Legacy
By James E.
Tokley, Sr.
Poet Laureate
Were there no
eyes to see what they have done?
Nor ears to
hear the beauty of their song
Nor hearts to
thrill the battles they had won
Nor grateful
arms to carry them along…
Were there no
likenesses to show they paid their dues?
Nor monuments
that proved they kept-a-pace
With those who
would have had the truth removed…
Were there no
echoes of the great applause?
The angels gave
tired feet that would not rest
Nor restless
minds that labored without pause
That other minds
might pass the fatal test…
Then those of
us, who have the most to gain,
Might lose the
sound of our ancestral name
And find ourselves unmindful as we pass,
Ourselves, like
strangers, in a looking glass.
We there no
spirits born to find the truth…
Nor souls to
excavate the where or when,
Then we who
seek an ever-fleeting youth,
Might never
understand what Youth has been.
And
thus, our sojourn, in this Summer Land
Would be a promenade,
on sinking sand!
Were there no
tongues to warn us where we’ve been?
We might resolve
to pass that way again!
