We should all sweat long
enough to meet the man
who beat the law of averages.
This man is not the sum of his words,
but the total of his actions.
The books grow colder, the papers scatter,
the disciples pray elsewhere;
but the teacher (oh! the teacher)
is still with us.
The house seems smaller, the children older,
the grass grows higher;
but the father (oh! the father)
is still with us.
We seek your country simple answers, Atticus.
Oh, to hear that same old story yet again,
(you know the one)
about that car, that man, that job,
that summer in the Army,
that diner at the edge of town,
that angel who changes tires,
that homecoming game, that dance,
that girl from Jasper...
Tell me that story again, and this
time I swear I'll listen.
We who remain will continue to rise
from the balcony at your passing-
We who remember will continue to bless
whatever food we are given-
We who live on will continue to follow
the examples you left for us-
We who knew you will continue
to try to know ourselves.
We should all sweat long
enough to meet the man
who beat the law of averages.
Now Atticus may rest.
YOU ARE READING
Atticus Rests
PoetryWe should all sweat long enough to meet the man who beat the law of averages. This man is not the sum of his words, but the total of his actions. The books grow colder, the papers scatter, the disciples pray elsewhere; but the teacher (oh! th...