Uncountable

 

{This poem came to me, while reading the list of vindicating numbers, being proclaimed across the airwaves.  In Attorney General Barr’s four-page summary of Mueller’s yet-unpublished report, a paragraph stands out.  It seems to argue, in a non-partisan, un-biased, M.B.A. fashion, that the sheer number of resources used is proof positive, of the thoroughness of the investigation, and therefore, of the correctness of the conclusions drawn from it. 

Let me paraphrase:  19 lawyers…40 FBI agents and staff…2800 subpoenas issued…500 search warrants executed…230 orders for communication records…50 orders for pen registers…13 requests to foreign governments for evidence…500 witnesses interviewed… 

It reminded me of the old tablets found, carved in cuneiform, listing accounts of goods. I’m sure, that those who studied them were so happy, to be able to translate the contents.  But could they actually use the figures, or derive any benefit from them, or draw any conclusions as to  their present situation, based upon them?  Didn’t the lists raise more questions, than they answered?

Interestingly, neither the number of arrests, nor the length of prison sentences were included, among the figures in the paragraph.

Thanks for reading and pardon the politics!}

 

 

At nineteen, one is innocent;

By forty, one grows wise.

Eight years is twenty-eight hundred days:

Too long, I would surmise;

Five hundred is Daytona’s length;

Two-thirty, half past two;

And fifty cents, four bits; thirteen,

Unlucky, through and through.

Five hundred is a thousand’s half:

Impressive.

Anecdotal.

As upwards of four thousand is,

I reckon: your grand total.

 

Yet much, I fear, is uncountable,

Invisible, hid from view.

How many lies have we been told?

How many years?  How few?

What new fresh scandal scorns its birth?

What horror lurks in the wings?

My dear, thou dost protest too much,

Your litany, bureaucratic stuff,

Omits

Uncountable things.

 

Copyright 2019 Andrea LeDew