Such Creatures

Their CVs stun – so much achieved, so young!
They’re head girls/boys, with DoE awards,
predicted A stars, play pianos, flutes;
they’ve learnt hard languages, backpacked abroad,
visit old people’s homes, work with deaf-mutes . . .
They dazzle like a world that’s just begun.

At interview, they’re fluent, smart and brave:
when asked what daunts them most, they’re confident
their generation has the energy/
commitment/solidarity/competence
to tackle Climate Change, shackle AI,
detoxify our legacy, and save

the planet we’ve imperilled. Afterwards
we struggle to decide which of them showed
that extra-special spark which means we’ll grant
a scholarship to lighten their debt load
when all of them have managed to enchant
with vibrant smiles, bold plans and stirring words . . .

But what right have I to judge who gets the dosh
especially given my own mismanaged youth?
While others shone, I didn’t. I bombed in sports,
chucked music lessons, half dropped out - if truth
be told, got by on Mum and Dad support,
failing to make a mark, to cut a dash

even in the halcyon years we boomers knew
(putting aside of course the Cold War threat
of nuclear winter!), and what looked a carefree future –
now here, a mess they’re fearlessly dead set
on cleaning up. They should be our accusers,
instead of which polite, hopeful thank yous

for sparing the time for them to pitch to us.
I wish I could believe in what they say
and that I couldn’t see the storm clouds gather
over what lies ahead, though in a way
maybe it’s best they’re blest with such dumb swagger
and that none of us think to ask them to discuss

how it is each age had stars who started thus
but the world remains unsafe, unkind, unjust.

Tom Vaughan

 
If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Tom Vaughan would be pleased to hear them