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"Our lives avoided tragedy
Simply by going on and on,
Without end and with little apparent
meaning.
Oh, there were storms and small
catastrophes.
Simply by going on and on
We managed. No need for the heroic.
Oh, there were storms and small
catastrophes.
I don't remember all the particulars.
We managed. No need for the heroic.
There were the usual celebrations,
the usual sorrows.
I don't remember all the particulars.
Across the fence, the neighbors were
our chorus.
There were the usual celebrations,
the usual sorrows.
Thank god no one said anything in
verse.
The neighbors were our only chorus,
And if we suffered we kept quiet
about it.
At no time did anyone say anything in
verse.
It was the ordinary pities and fears
consumed us,
And if we suffered we kept quiet
about it.
No audience would ever know our
story.
It was the ordinary pities and fears
consumed us.
We gathered on porches; the moon
rose; we were poor.
What audience would ever know our
story?
Beyond our windows shone the actual
world.
We gathered on porches; the moon
rose; we were poor.
And time went by, drawn by slow
horses.
Somewhere beyond our windows shone
the world.
The Great Depression had entered our
souls like fog.
And time went by, drawn by slow
horses.
We did not ourselves know what the
end was.
The Great Depression had entered our
souls like fog.
We had our flaws, perhaps a few
private virtues.
But we did not ourselves know what
the end was.
People like us simply go on.
We have our flaws, perhaps a few
private virtues,
But it is by blind chance only that
we escape tragedy.
And there is no plot in that; it is
devoid of poetry."
By Donald Justice
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