Donal Mahoney- A Poem

The Whole Mad Swirl

I was out of control, spinning 

on the whirligig of youth, 

giddy to be caught 

in what Kerouac called 

"the whole mad swirl

of everything to come."

I didn't know what to expect. 

I was ready for nothing

though I had spent years 

in solitary confinement

with books, exams and degrees.

You would think I'd have learned 

something about life as it is,

not as I wished it to be. 

I went out on the street 

to look for work

and was surprised to discover 

no one spoke Old English 

like Beowulf or Middle English

like the Wife of Bath.

An old professor told me 

I talked the way 

e.e. cummings wrote 

and no one would hire me.

A few years later I married 

a woman with several degrees. 

She thought I was normal.

We had five kids in six years 

and drove landlords bonkers.

"The Lord will provide," 

we said, and He did.

Fifty years later, the five kids

have rucksacks of their own

packed with jobs, marriages, 

children and good lives

measured against 

the standard of most.

Their mother is dead, 

and like everyone else

on this strange planet 

I am in the process 

of dying in the jaws

of what Kerouac called 

"the whole mad swirl

of everything to come."

I have seen almost all 

of "everything to come" 

except for the best part

and that, I am told, 

will take my breath away.