Pogo Had it Right
I enter the
plains to do battle.
I gird up
my loins for the fight.
I turn to
my bearer for armor.
My helper
is nowhere in sight.
In panic I
fumble to unsheath my sword.
Striking
blindly, I render the air.
I search
for the foe that I might dispatch.
But, I’m
really the only one there.
In
confusion, I retreat from this threat with alarm—
Begging my
mind to admit this a dream
Of the
night before more than just here and now
In this
day, as it truly does seem.
I turn
again to check the field
And find it
not clear as before,
As I am
there to face myself;
A foe that
I cannot ignore.
We fought
for years to find out who
Was good
and who was bad.
But, when
at last I won, I lost
The
horrible dreams that I’ve had.
But, who
can say that I had won,
And who can
name the foe?
Yes, who of
you can read my heart,
And of its
ways to know?
December
7, 1970
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