Song of Youth

A song can remind me of who I was once.
Yesterday I listened to a CD I haven't
heard in years, meaning at least 10; I was
thinking that CDs are nearly obsolete now,
then suddenly a song came on that I used
to sing myself, back in the days I wore
my hair long and lived without worries
(in the days I could carry my gear and
actually walk into a gig with no help),
a song I sang once before a large,
appreciative audience, and I found I
could actually remember what it felt like
to be hopeful, idealistic, and dedicated to
something I couldn't yet name and which
now I can name but find it's much too late.
Too late for naming problems, especially
intractable ones. Too late for taking an
alternate route. Too late to avert disaster.
That fact doesn't keep me from wanting
to sing that song again, from wanting to
lift the hearts of other young people
somehow, from desperately hoping they
won't figure out the truth that one's dreams
become a long list of one's failures,
of one's should-have-dones and
could-have-beens. Songs and poems
and plays and movies and paintings
really can help a person avoid the many
various half-truths we all tell ourselves.
Be straight, be honest, and, above all,
don't stop singing.

(2007)