The Carpetbagger's Wife

The Carpetbagger’s Wife

He tried to remember
What made him so.
Why was he like this?
What should he know?

Snippets of life
Came into view.
Vignettes from memory,
None of them new.

This New York boy
Didn’t know he was poor
When someone told him,
He stared at the floor.

He won’t succeed,
Wrong side of the tracks.
He won’t make it,
Those are the facts.

Those long-ago voices
Played in his head.
He’d proved them wrong,
Ignored all they said.

His family moved South,
He made a new start.
It was his chance
To play a different part.

Now he’s the sum
Of the experiences he’s had.
He cherishes the good
And accepts the bad.

He believes in God
And wonders about fate.
Why is he here?
Are his efforts too late?

Carpetbagger,
An old Southern slur,
Now applied to him
With venom and vigor.

What of his wife?
She doesn’t understand.
Why do they hate
This kind and noble man?

He will protect her
From the meanness at the door.
He will never again
Stare at the floor.