Neil Peart

Assignment: Write a private-look poem about a public figure

Neil Peart 

Even gods

                  get tired.

Even gods

      sometimes overfill their cup.

Sometimes they drop

                        and jump

    on a bike going nowhere

            and go

nowhere

                  and everywhere.

The blur of the landscape

            every nerve aware

Not all gods want

to be                         worshipped.

their faces on a t-shirt

            sweaty hands pushing

            paper and polycarbonate plastic

     praying that in transition

their flesh may graze

      his holy fingertips.

                  Cast in this unlikely role,

   Ill-equipped to act,

Some gods

      can't pretend a stranger

is a long-awaited friend.

Can a god

            suffer

the loss of a child

      then a wife?

Can a god throw

            in the towel

and say

      I'm done,

done with the Rush,

      I'm done.

There's no protective

      lotion for the limelight,

sometimes its rays

            are harsher

      than the sun.

Sometimes light isn't all

                  it's talked up to be.

Sometimes

      we burn our wings

            flying too close to the sun

Sometimes even gods want to sit

      alone

                  in the dark.

Sometimes, though, all it takes

is a 55,000 mile escape

      to sow a new mentality

            feel the sense of possibilities

                  feel the wrench of hard realities.

Sometimes gods

need to mourn

and find themselves

outside the gilded cage

He's everybody's hero

but his own.

We will pay the price

But we will not count the cost