That history rhymes with mystery’s no chance.
Examining the past’s like checking poo
To see what has been eaten. We advance –
But some of us prefer the backward view.

Searching for reason in our excrement,
Exploring the effects of what we ate,
May give insight into some element,
But will, unfortunately, come rather late.

Post-event wisdom, hindsight’s piercing gaze,
They penetrate, reveal and clarify –
But what? Just the detritus of dead days,
The rust and dust that scholars mummify.

As I investigate Time after time,
I wish that judgement could prevent the crime.

Examination: etymology
Suggests that something’s being taken out,
Or else it’s slipped in the chronology:
It was, it’s ‘ex-’, it’s “former” – but I doubt

If all these explanations can explain
The nature, purpose, function of this rite
Of passage, or a ‘brief account’ make plain
The role it plays, or cast the slightest light

On why, because I did it, you must, too,
To prove yourself inferior to me,
To prove myself superior to you,
Me examiner, you examinee.

“Knowledge is power” – a line full of suggestions.
Don’t forget: I’m the one asking the questions!

Outside the window, I can see the birds
Picking up sandwiches the kids have dropped
(Or thrown – food as a missile!) like the words
I gathered from the books I never stopped

Reading when ill – or well – I wonder if
The birds are nourished better by these chances
Than they would be if well-fed out of stiff
Wire cages (squirrel-proof!) And then my glance is

Caught by kids in classrooms, bent over tasks
Meaningless in themselves, but forming part,
No doubt, of some great whole (though no one asks
If it’s a hole instead, or when they’ll start

To understand just what it is they’ve done.)
Colour the blanks. Eat crumbs. Shut up. Get on.

29.i.2008 History Lesson

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