May 2020
I've lived in 1987 for the past two months
Every waking moment and in my every dream
When sleep would finally come called by exhaustion
As is still the case although the work is now done.
Idealistic young lawyer,
In his first posting as a dean,
In a for-profit business school,
Naive voice crying in the wilderness.
Worked very long hours,
To change what was wrong,
Achieved great success,
Which all came to naught.
Made friends while tilting at windmills,
Stubbornly refusing to accept,
That which could be changed through simple hard work
That I believed would make real difference in others' lives.
A classic clash of missions and visions:
Provides the factual drama--theirs, to maximize profits,
And deliver an education at the lowest possible cost,
Mine to be in the business of changing lives for the better.
I implemented meaningful changes,
That brought unintended consequences
I found unacceptable, and personal conflicts
That caused me to resign while still on good terms.
And I learned critical lessons,
Not just about an industry I did not know,
But about myself, my strengths and my weaknesses,
And about love that brought joy and pain that I can still feel.
As I wrote my novel, composing at the keyboard,
I wrote through the night, sleeping only when my vision blurred,
And I could not focus around 8:00, 9:00, 10:00 a.m.
For a few hours, then back to my keyboard and my previous life.
Ghosts long thought buried rose in warm flesh and blood,
Old battles fought anew, old brown paths grew verdant,
Cold cinders rekindled, closed doors opened wide,
Beckoned me to live for a time in what might have been.
Scars long ago faded opened up anew,
The heart cried tears of blood as fiction
Too close to truth flowed onto the page,
Chasing sleep away long after the writing was done.
After two decades of gestation,
I've now given birth to my first child,
The afterbirth has been cleaned,
She is all pink, warm, and oh so cuddly.
I fell in love with her the moment,
I stared into her huge, bright, old-soul eyes,
Her strong, tiny hand is now wrapped,
Around all of my heart strings and will be for life.
Now I'm searching for a literary agent,
Sending tiny snapshots of my little girl,
Hoping they will love her too,
But knowing they may not.
If I can't send her off to finishing school,
I will home school her, teach her all I know,
And ready her as best I can to be seen by the world,
Where she may not thrive but will always have my love.
If all goes well, I will give her a sister to play with,
In a year or so if life will allow it,
My heart is large and still has room,
For more wounds to open that only they can heal.
Hear me read this poem here: https://youtu.be/iOJt4ySlhXQ
Every waking moment and in my every dream
When sleep would finally come called by exhaustion
As is still the case although the work is now done.
Idealistic young lawyer,
In his first posting as a dean,
In a for-profit business school,
Naive voice crying in the wilderness.
Worked very long hours,
To change what was wrong,
Achieved great success,
Which all came to naught.
Made friends while tilting at windmills,
Stubbornly refusing to accept,
That which could be changed through simple hard work
That I believed would make real difference in others' lives.
A classic clash of missions and visions:
Provides the factual drama--theirs, to maximize profits,
And deliver an education at the lowest possible cost,
Mine to be in the business of changing lives for the better.
I implemented meaningful changes,
That brought unintended consequences
I found unacceptable, and personal conflicts
That caused me to resign while still on good terms.
And I learned critical lessons,
Not just about an industry I did not know,
But about myself, my strengths and my weaknesses,
And about love that brought joy and pain that I can still feel.
As I wrote my novel, composing at the keyboard,
I wrote through the night, sleeping only when my vision blurred,
And I could not focus around 8:00, 9:00, 10:00 a.m.
For a few hours, then back to my keyboard and my previous life.
Ghosts long thought buried rose in warm flesh and blood,
Old battles fought anew, old brown paths grew verdant,
Cold cinders rekindled, closed doors opened wide,
Beckoned me to live for a time in what might have been.
Scars long ago faded opened up anew,
The heart cried tears of blood as fiction
Too close to truth flowed onto the page,
Chasing sleep away long after the writing was done.
After two decades of gestation,
I've now given birth to my first child,
The afterbirth has been cleaned,
She is all pink, warm, and oh so cuddly.
I fell in love with her the moment,
I stared into her huge, bright, old-soul eyes,
Her strong, tiny hand is now wrapped,
Around all of my heart strings and will be for life.
Now I'm searching for a literary agent,
Sending tiny snapshots of my little girl,
Hoping they will love her too,
But knowing they may not.
If I can't send her off to finishing school,
I will home school her, teach her all I know,
And ready her as best I can to be seen by the world,
Where she may not thrive but will always have my love.
If all goes well, I will give her a sister to play with,
In a year or so if life will allow it,
My heart is large and still has room,
For more wounds to open that only they can heal.
Hear me read this poem here: https://youtu.be/iOJt4ySlhXQ
