"Dark Horse Becoming White", Don Shiau
(a poem for our times)
They will tell you the schools
you need to attend. Ignore
them—
this is the time to quietly build.
Win a scholarship, but choose
an unremarkable college.
Play guitar, but only well
enough to be cute, later.
Return home. Disappear
into your bureaucracy.
Marry, because your people
will like that, but also divorce,
because you won’t.
When the call comes, answer.
Wear the uniform. Hold the line.
Keep your head down, and your
hair glued to your head.
Remarry. Quietly.
Get the small jobs done, well. The ones
no-one really cares about:
that heritage site, those celebrations.
Keep the rest of the machine running.
Play that guitar. Okay stop.
Be good enough, without wanting.
Be liked, without dividing.
You will have your moment,
then everyone will know.
You see, Lawrence—
you are an idea
whose time has come.
Your country has flourished
so long in the shadows of titans;
it cannot imagine
anything else.
But the titans have gone.
And when those left behind
are done debating,
and those they govern
are done disagreeing,
you may be the one we all deserve.