Modes of Being

        Unlike Yeats I waited,

Not rushing ahead 

Until done.  He, seeking

Readers, led a revolution

While I was a carrier driver’s

Load, dropping on docks

Still rendering kind. Looking

Time to time not deigning

Any boastful assertions.  How

Else in good conscience arrive

On these shores having spent 

Time on others?  I can’t recall 

How I got from there to here

My sister and her friend denied

Walking me back till I was

In the time I climbed derricks

And had battles with the like-

Minded in lots tall with weeds,

Home, contrary to what Wolfe

Asserted.  His being common

Existence, mine being mind.

On having been a rifle coach

        Doing things with all my might

I learned when young, but never

Who I was over the years. 

I seemed well enough at this

And that and maybe as good

As need be and always moved

On.  Looking back as I often do

Was I good enough.  I was 

Offered an increase in rank

If I would stay, but the war

Was the thing I was doing 

And I was on Cheju Do 

When the truce was signed.

I seemed to be done and

Moved on, but had I stayed,

I might have had Oswald,

To train.  If I had

Trained him with all my might,

What would he do if I was 

Better?  If I was worse?