Bernie, Bernie, Bernie: You made the flowers bloom (A poem about Bernie Sanders, America's peaceful revolutionary)

The Flowers Miss Bernie Sanders

The flowers miss you Bernie. The garden keeper looks for you in vain.

You were the tip of an iceberg. A frosty peak that somehow melted into that big lump of snow ... the DNC.

You were the focal point, a magnifying glass that, aiming at injustices, might have turned them to ashes. A smoldering residue of hope is all that  now remains.

You were the watering can, that made the flowers bloom. Now the flowers wither for lack of your spout.

You were always found weeding, plotting for a garden of sweetness: You made the revolution swell. Why did you  leave the revolution? To join the opposition? To leave our hopes hope to wither and die?

Time will tell.

Your were the moon that lifted the tide. How that moon has  waned. See how the high-waters recede! 

You were the action figure, the hero who slammed his opponents into whimpering caricatures of doom. Now the fools are grinning with impish smiles.

You were like a magnet that held the iron filings in their unique and fascinating patterns on the pages of history. 

Now the iron falls this way and that.

You were nothing. A man. That's all. A good man, but just a man. All but having  gone away. Disappeared into the machinery of the party. Online pages lie idle.

Yet your fans imagine wild schemes.

Like martyrs in their buds, they dream of Resurrections. Some imagine vain things, back-stage plots. He will come again. He will be President!

Naysayers rub their hands in glee. "I told you so." 

Some believed the South would rise again, or the Soviet Union would reform. 

Bernie, we dreamed of you at night. We longef for your voice by day. We refused to let you just ... die. To us it seemed you more or less just went away at the crucial moment. 

Like a general taken captive, you are gone, as if to a foreign land. Without your direct leadership, it seems there now is none.

We dined among friends: The bread was wholesome, the wine was sweet. Now no one takes his place at the head of the table. An empty place sits vacant, a chair for unseen quest who will never pass this way again.

The charmer of the little bird. You are busy charming other little birds perhaps. Birds that sit in political convention seats, we are told.

To us it is all the same. You are out of sight. You are gone.

Before, you and the stars above made the night skies twinkle. Then they just  fizzled. How you and the sun made the days shine so brightly!

Bernie, Bernie, Bernie. The Revolution that was meant to be.

The flowers miss you Bernie Sanders. The flower children miss you too.


By Frank Ellsworth Lockwood

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*Democratic National Convention
** Sanders Endorsed his opponent, effectively making him support his party's political other candidate, his former opponent Hillary Clinton.

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