Statesman Written by Tobin G. Johnston
May, The 22nd, 2008
A man. He is first and foremost that. A man, made of the same stuff as all men.
The malleable clay and silt of river beds, shaped by currents and seasons.
He, like all, is supplicant to the passage of time, to the flag of youthfulness,
to tenderness and the ache of our bodily destiny. He is a man.
Sharing in that divine spark which teaches dreams to thoughts and generosity to actions.
Attentive student to the benevolent teacher. But not alone, he is
and has become other. Is brother, son, father, steward, servant and inhabitant.
Citizen of this good country. The flesh of this expansive body.
Nascent hope of this soil. Resident of ourselves. He becomes to us, risks greatly
for us and for his own faith. He knows he takes his life and gives it peril.
Greater men have failed. Men more capable have been overcome. In goodness
there is little guarantee. But still he offers to us a knowledge of himself
and with this offering asks us to know ourselves. He is a decision.
He is a watershed. He is this or that. He is possibility.
This American saga retold before our eyes. This story of our nation- corporeal.
log cabin, cherry tree, rough rider and polio survivor. This myth,
flesh-dressed before us. This statesman of promise. Much is changing,
much is left to us to change, but much is changing. Yet do not fear.
There have been times before when it was like this, when spirits were moved,
when words were restored their dangerous and meaningful power,
when people trembled to see different. But finally in my life time a moment worthy of poetry. Finally a man for this moment. And finally an man worth writing poetry of.
