On a pastoral visit to Tom J

With mind and brawn strong gates hewed from butter and guns
I have made possible to hold the enemy at bay;
On the shoulders of Babbage and Einstein I have preserved the day:
For my family, my wife, daughters and sons.

You cry out for me to open up the gates for new life;
You cry out for me to stop what I am doing
That it is my own demons I have been subduing;
Not for my family, my sons, daughters, and wife.

Guns and butter, gates and mirrors --
For this I was trained, by this I followed the Law,
Without this I cannot care for my dear ones,
At best I have this no matter how flawed.

You cry out for me to walk out the gates to new life,
But what of my family, daughters, sons, and wife?

©1990, John A. Mills