A Poem

Recently I was reading a story about Benedict Arnold in the Smithsonian. I stopped before finishing so my summary may be wrong or incomplete. But as far as it went, I got the impression he may have been a much more agreeable character than we have been led to believe. Then I realized the story reminded me of another I had recently read. I don’t recall the origins of that story, but the similarity lay in the confusion that accompanies any time of great upheaval.

Our historians rarely mention it, but the motives that moved each of our founding fathers, for instance, may have been very different from that which has come to be widely believed. The historians have, for the most part, conjectured it. True, a lot of the conjecturing may be based on stated motives of those involved, but those are automatically suspect.

The important thing is that we should recognize the uncertainty of our current circumstance. We have a very good likelihood that the future may be very different from the past. Our situation is very odd.

What will life be like under a president Trump? My brother’s opinion seems to be that “not that much is likely to happen.” But perhaps I just hope that. I haven’t talked to my brother recently.

No one seems to have any idea what is going to hold. Everyone seems to think the Trump we get is going to be the Trump they want. Many of the things I’ve seen in the Trump Team”s transition decisions scare me. Maybe my innate tendency toward expecting the worse is showing itself, here. I’ve long thought Trump resembles Hitler more than anyone else I have ever seen in public life. If I am right, then he would not be ideal as a commander in chief. Of course, on January twentieth that’s exactly who he is.

I wrote a poem:

“None of it makes any sense.
None of it.

No wonder the world still loves
poets.”

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One Response to A Poem

  1. Hank Raymond says:

    We shall see, huh?

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