I wrote this poem after reading of the Kalakala’s fate in the News Tribune. Article by C. R. Roberts. Photo by Peter Haley.
For the Kalakala – the Flying Bird
They don’t write poems
for the defeated
the vanquished
for the little engine that
almost.
So this poem is for the losers
those bent in half
on their knees or
walking in the wind.
When cheers stop
and the crowd leaves.
When you’ve got to pick yourself up
and just keep going
-just keep going-
Sometimes, your best
isn’t good enough, but
nobody bothered to tell you that.
Sometimes, it seems forces conspire
to
break
you
down.
And they do.
Sometimes, all that’s left is a dark walk to the graving yard.
So, keep your head high.
Go with grace.
And defy those bastards to the dying end.