Ah, For Just One Who Wouldn’t Truckle*

A writer wrote that he never truckled,
that he told it as he saw it,
what he understood to be truth
and what he later still understood to be truth,
but he died at thirty-two,
so he didn’t have to suffer
the consequences of his refusal to truckle
in judgment, rejection, reaction from fear
and perhaps even physical violence.
The terminal violence of a burst appendix
saved him from such potential violence.
Maybe he wouldn’t have cared and
would have continued never to truckle
even if someone twisted his arm and
told him to cry uncle.
We’ll never know,
but we can admire the man
who never truckled
from a distance, in a time
when leaders truckle
and buckle
and continue to suckle
at the teat
of the biggest bully on the street,
called Fifth Ave,
where he totes a gun
and says he can shoot and
kill anyone
and can get away
and never have to pay.
Ah, for just one today
who wouldn’t truckle
his or her life away.

*on the anniversary of the day in 1933 that “the Nazi Party won 44 percent
of the vote in German parliamentary elections, enabling it to join with
the Nationalists to gain a slight majority in the Reichstag. Within three
weeks, the Nazi-dominated Reichstag passed the Enabling Act, which gave
Hitler dictatorial powers and ended the Weimar Republic in Germany”
The Writer’s Almanac, March 5, 2019.

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