Poignantly sketching a stellar rhetorician and eager theoretic
rather than an unrestrained lover of people and the polis,
this author captures the finale just as it’s appeared at the mic
Fishers and hunters don’t read about or refer to
the trials and fears and successes and moments of relief and
collaborations around the fire place late at night and early morning rides
from dry lands.
Where is the mud on your feet
and the rod or knife in your hand?
What do you harvest and for whom?
How do you celebrate, how do you humble yourself?
Theory and thought matter;
they sustain through fears.
But here the magic lies,
mind the mundane,
to have gone out fishing or hunting
and spent the day watching fireflies and birds and the wind in the trees
and coming home empty-handed
to be able to reach out for her hands
rather than never having tried in the first place.