Sic Transit Gloria Mundi
Who was this person, cast in bronze, astride
A metal horse, with sword in hand and uniform?
He looms above me in the center of this quiet
City square, a plaque upon his pedestal informing
Me that he was Edward Dawson, and he lived
And died some eighty years before my time.
What did he do? It seems he fought, but who,
The Indians, the Mexicans, the ones who hoped
To keep their slaves, or those who sought to win
Them freedom? There's no way for me to know.
At some point, someone felt that Edward Dawson
Ought to be remembered, so they placed his image
Here, but those who pass seem not to see him.
No one else looks at his plaque. The statue is.
The man it represents has disappeared.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 38 times
Written on 2022-08-03 at 17:34
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