I, Alexandera

Written
2009

  

I, Alexandra

 

I am Alexandra !

I am here.

All hail Alexandra!

The poster announces me,

         as loudly as the trumpets

         told of the Macedonian

         whose name I carry.

He was crowned the emperor

         of the world.

Do I too have worlds to conquer?

His Greeks were many

         and mighty warriors all.

Twenty-two centuries later,

          do I, too, need a mighty army

         for the world I must

         master?

I glance at the roster

          of my family

         and see a gene pool

         to match that of the emperor.

There are wise teachers.

The artists who paint

         and those whose music imitate

         the sounds of the gossamer.

Runners and rugby players.

Writers who own the          language

         and those who speak

         in many tongues.

There are clowns and scholars,

         cooks and scribes.

There are mathematicians who own

         and train the numbers.        

The peacekeepers and messengers

         who sound the passing day.

The essence of me

         is distilled from

         dabs of this and that,

         from all over mankind

Am I, Alexandra, ready to conquer

         my world

         with this extensive army?

For I was born not with a silver spoon

         in my mouth.

Perhaps rather I have a silver spur

         in my flank

         and a cloud

         to ride triumphantly

         through Caesar's arch.

 

But what if my heart is a hobo?

Perhaps to wander

          in fields of clover

Or to seek Shangri-La

         instead of Camelot.

Perhaps to read Omar Khayyam

         instead of an inaugural speech.

Perhaps to clip flowers

         instead of coupons.

Then too I may listen to Louie

         instead of HAIL TO THE CHIEF.

I may develop an appetite

         for all the world's foods

         instead of the gourmet menu.

The 400 seems so small a community

         when compared to the 4 billion.

So I am also Alex !

I am here.

All say hello to Alex!

My army wants not to name

         the world  I am to conquer

         nor say who I will be.

The silver spur may just be

         a stool to stand on

         to reach the stars.        

That is for me to decide.

 

Doug Minnis

February 22, 2009

        

 

 

         

 

        

 

 

 

 

 

Notes
Always like the kids in the Pumpkin Patch . The poem was written soon after Alex was born. What a beginning and what a famous name. It got me to thinking about what was ahead for her. She has exceeded expectations.