First Steps Into the Shatter Zone by Michael Doyle
Sometimes, I allow myself an inward journey As I seek to know what the past means to me Today, nestled in my roadside booth I find myself eating tacos as I seek out the truth
What was it like to have encountered Cortez Does it matter whose history and what each says I am descended from more than two paths of madness Each of which brings me happiness and sadness
Marching out with a thirst for gold and destruction It's difficult to imagine and bring into construction To think of how anyone could see this as prosperity To destroy a separate world's meaning and legacy
The conquistadors' greed left behind the shatter zone Is it foolish that I cry quietly as I think alone? Coming in the name of glory, God, and dreams of gold Exactly whose deaths and whose souls came to be sold
Traveling the world brought exchange and conflict And maybe it's fanciful to sit here and contradict But imaginary journeys back to another's days When cities of gold turned out to only be corn maize
Brought about the conquistadors' arrival and landing Who arrived for the glory and pretense of commanding The right to treasure and slavery for the king's pleasure It was seen as one side's right beyond reasonable measure
And still, it is easy to see as I take myself a bite That the conquered peoples had fed the savage appetite Of people who did not care what became of chiefdoms When they had arrived in the name of the Spanish kingdom
Now, as it turns out, had the Spanish only shown deference Allowing for the native practices and sense of reverence The chances are there would have been less hostility And they would have been welcomed with great civility
Instead, the Spanish ignored the signs that did surround As the conquistadors overstepped themselves on sacred grounds Allowing the natives only attempts at their outward defense And thus receiving their just wounds as their recompense
Or at least, a bitter attempt beyond all doubt At driving these greed-driven Spanish beasts out Rampaging shows of horror don't often echo divinity And make it hard to bring conversions to Christianity
The whole scorched earth and taking lives of relative ease And replacing this with slavery, death, and mass disease It was a little much as everywhere the white man's recognition Brought suffering and an end to the entirety of native vision
Columbus and his 'discovery' brought a lot of devastation Come as it may, it's hard to call this civilization Perhaps it's only right that we give this truth its conception And recognize and celebrate that each side made a contribution?
There were no cities of gold, but the world would be fed And a great nation was forged despite whose side deeply bled As I finish my tacos, I have a sense of gratitude for maize And for the measure of my lived through passing of my days
(c) March 21, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
Meet me where the sun sets I've never loved as much as I will, yet Meet me where our road ends And be my lifetime friend
Tell me all your secrets Let's live a love of no regrets In a small town or in a city Wouldn't it be the greatest pity
If we never stopped to say hello There would be things I'd never know Like the deep end of life's shallow You've brought the sunshine to my shadow
I was on a fast train going nowhere Telling myself life wasn't worth the care Life couldn't get or be any better In how fate falls itself together
All of spring's flowers laugh their smile But none of them match your timeless style Dipping my toes in the ocean of your wonderful I'd be remiss if I didn't admit that you're beautiful
If we never stopped to say hello There would be things I'd never know Like the deep end of life's shallow You've brought the sunshine to my shadow
(c) March 20, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“The spring is now approaching, and with it, I hope, a revival of our spirits and fortunes.” Here, spring symbolizes hope and renewal, paralleling his optimism for the revolutionary cause.” – John Adams, in a letter to Abigail Adams on March 17, 1776
“The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.” ~ Henry Van Dyke
Sometimes words come out stilted Leaving heads hung and tilted Listening as the lonesome whistle blows Suddenly, we're all raggedy hobos
As we wonder to ourselves where time has gone Wasn't it just yesterday when trains rolled on Somewhere down the tracks to places we'd guess When the truth was we couldn't care less
Listening to the great American train song Was part of a childhood that doesn't belong Not anymore, it seems, except for the country Where lonely trains still roll for you and me
Do you remember climbing in the back of the truck We didn't know we were just pushing our luck Drinking out of rubber hoses and staying outside The days of our lives were a heck of a ride
The tracks we saw stretched far and wide We would walk along them with the radio to guide Where we were going, though no one knew We were Americans raised for the red, white, and blue
Listening to the great American train song Was part of a childhood that doesn't belong Not anymore, it seems, except for the country Where lonely trains still roll for you and me
Horizons come where hopeful memories coincide We were full of youth and our world's pride Riding streams of iron as the landscape unfurled As we got older and the world just whirled
We have traded the trains for road trips we drive Looking back on our youth, happy to have survived We wink at each other without needing a word The memories have passed us all in life's blur
Listening to the great American train song Was part of a childhood that doesn't belong Not anymore, it seems, except for the country Where lonely trains still roll for you and me
(c) March 19, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
Heading out of Australia to escape this Aussie winter. First stop Japan, then UK/Ireland and if work doesn't call me back, onto Chicago. I will make it up as I go along