It does make sense
to bestow honors on the honorable,
some recognition.
I give a Ph.D. to the old woman
in front of me at the store.
She worked hard at sorrow
and from the softness of her lips
chained in resentment.
By herself on the stage
I give her, her degree.
A strong son,
forgetful in another city,
perhaps a daughter
touring the towns
she teaches about to small children.
Her mother receiving cards,
putting them on the mantel.
Postcards from a world
she never toured.
The thin man,
with sprigs of silver
on his balding skull.
A masters degree for perseverance,
and the insult of being ignored,
years of early rising.
I think what I’ll do
is select for graduation
one soul a day.
Ask the world for honors
for men and women.
A stage where their lives
are honored
for being honorable,
and their souls blessed
for not giving up,
for giving to others.
For bearing burden with gentle hearts,
and keeping their smiles.
Get the rolls ready,
the hoods and gowns,
the party and friends,
and speeches for jobs well done,
for achievement beyond what was asked,
and the joy of a day
when they get their deserved recognition.