We fought the good fight.
We stood by the rock and protested.
We were the voices of Iowa City,
the bodies, not bombs in New York.
We stood on street corners in the snow.
We prayed and we sang.
We released our hysteria
and we-- kept step, --kept step, (--echo)
-In the land of, as yet, unkept promise.
We ate at Swan’s Depot
And rode Bart into the city.
We drifted out to sea on shots of Tequila
and friendly competition.
And when Schnakey’s chute refused to open…
We stood on Mt. Tamalpais and
Watched the lupine
bend in the breeze.
-We made our peace with nature
-We lifted our hearts and toasted the thrill
-and the temporary
-We scraped out the marrow of our bones
-And simmered the living juices
-in caldrons of hope and fear.
And we fed on this alchemical soup -
over and over,
-over the years and decades.
And it fed our longing
and nourished our thoughts
It shifted our passions
and shaped our votes
It held our dreams
and birthed our children.
It noted our shortcomings
And remembered our ancestors.
And it gave voice to our compassion
and reason to our lives --reason (--echo)
-beyond art, and money, and ego, and nonsense.