Carl Stevens' Journal: A Poem For Tom Menino
If you see this city, you see his face
there's Tom Menino all over the place.
From Hyde Park Ave. to Dudley Square,
everywhere you look he's there.
He's alive in the hope in a child's eye,
alive in the towers that frame the sky,
alive in the pavement of a well-lit block,
alive in the pilings of a refurbished dock,
alive in the pulse of the hands he shook,
alive in his deeds and the chances he took.
He didn't speak well; that wasn't well hid,
but he did his talking with the things that he did.
This urban mechanic with budgetary tools,
polished the side streets, the parks and the schools.
Projects were leveled, homes took their place,
and people, with pride, took care of their space.
This city, this Boston, was tended with care
by a gardener who worked far more than his share,
each tireless day refused each day to stop,
so we harvest the fruit of that good gardener's crop.
From potholes to budgets, classrooms to plows,
he took care of the "later" by attending to "now."
He challenged his staff, he challenged us all,
not to crawl in the shadows, but get up when we fall.
When the smoke cleared from Boylston Street
he rose from his wheelchair, got up on his feet,
and told the city, the nation, to get up as well,
define for ourselves the story we'd tell.
And the story we have in his wake is bright,
thanks to his vision, his will, his insight.
Tom Menino loved this old city of ours,
it captured his years, his days, and his hours,
it motivated a determined and tireless fighter.
Thanks to him, this city is that much brighter
his will would not wane till this town was the best...
lie in peace, now mayor, you deserve the rest.
Listen to Carl's poem:
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