It was a wild card
that I won for daring
to go to therapy,
a little extra
that gave me a whole year off
from capitalism,
not above hard work,
but a short respite from being
the standard wage slave,
an opportunity to discover
my true community self.

My father thought
we were all deluded,
that we'd never make
the slightest difference,
but this was because
he was stuck
in the Revolution, not seeing
who could be saved
along the way,
that those whose lives were improved
could do so much for others.

And it was fun!
Any laughter brought to the heart
must be worth the effort.
Niell was no fool,
though there were enough real fools
who thought he was soft in the head.
He didn't create chaos,
simply moved the perspective
just a little,
and made, in one jump,
a whole lifetime of change.

There were still faults
in the system, one man
as head, instead of a team,
but the method of top down
and everyone knows their place
had been shifted forever,
even though as front man,
by holding his position
as if he wasn't there,
he allowed the rest to discover,
who they really were.

A bold move,
and a challenge of great love,
and I am still trying
to rise to the occasion.
My biggest failure at the school
was to never sit down with Niell himself
and talk as man to man.
He would have welcomed that
at any time,
but at least I saw it then,
and since have made it up with others.

From this one ladder,
where normally there are too many snakes,
in a single step
I moved up half the board,
gave myself, and others close to me,
enough reflection
to keep me for the rest of my life.
And this is the gift of Summerhill,
a gift meant for everyone,
the true Revolution
my father so fervently desired. 31/3/08

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1 comment:

  1. Hey Mark, your words are so soothing and while reading this poem I feel like floating in sentiments. You write so very well. Keep it up.