Washington | A Humble Servant

Every year this date circles, quiet as frost on a window, and urges us to look again at the life of George Washington. 

He died on December 14, 1799, in the soft hush of a Virginia winter.  The country he helped will into being was still young enough to tremble.

I wrote the poem that follows as a way of walking back through the long arc of his life.  Not the marble version, but the human one.  The boy shaped by loss.  The surveyor tracing the edges of an untamed continent.  The commander shouldering a war he never sought.  And the President who knew when to step away. 

This poem holds both the bright stories we were raised on and the shadows we must face.  Washington’s greatness does not need polishing; it asks for honesty, for a full accounting.

Two centuries on, his example still teaches.  Not because he was flawless, but because he carried power lightly and returned it freely.  On this anniversary of his death, it feels right to pause, to measure the distance between then and now, and to remember what kind of leadership can steady a nation.

Here is the poem:

George Washington

GEORGE WASHINGTON | A Humble Servant

In the heartland of Virginia, where tobacco leaves sway,

Dwelt a young lad, George, in the dawn of the day.

His father in rest, when he was just eleven,

Those tender years of youth, by life’s trials were driven.

In the heartland where the cherry blossoms sway,

The boy, Washington, learned honesty’s way.

“I cannot tell a lie,” he professed, his voice as clear as morn,

A testament to virtues, in his heart forever worn.

To the College of William, he sought wisdom’s light,

A survey license earned, under starry night.

With compass and courage, he charted the land,

A future formed beneath his steady hand.

Through the haze of the forest, through vast untamed lands,

He led with honor, mapping with stable hands.

In the turmoil of war, where the French and Indians clashed,

His courage stood unyielding, like a lighthouse ’midst the crash.

Summoned by the Congress, as clouds of war did grow,

Against the British lion, he stood a steadfast foe.

General of the army, in the Revolution’s wake,

He charged for freedom, for liberty’s sake.

In the icy grip of winter, in Valley Forge’s hold,

His resolve never wavered; his spirit never sold.

Crossing the Delaware, on a Christmas night so cold,

His spirit soared like the eagle, a sight to behold.

Victory finally claimed, the war’s clamor at an end,

He yearned for peace, for time on his land to spend.

Yet, duty’s call was stronger, his country needed more,

As the first president, he entered history’s door.

His Farewell Address, a testament to his enduring love,

For this land of liberty, blessed by the One above.

Unity and brotherhood, he urged with all his might,

Effulgent in the darkness, a guiding, eternal light.

So here’s to George Washington, a leader without peer,

His memory we honor, his legacy we revere.

In the account of our history, his name forever gleams,

Echoing through the ages, in the themes of our American Dreams.

Yet, more of this noble man, there is to tell,

His lessons echo still, across our land so swell.

In the quiet of Mount Vernon, ’neath the whispering trees,

He tilled the earth, nurtured life, felt the gentle breeze.

Amid the glory, a darker truth we find,

Enslaved souls, to his prosperity bind.

A blemish, a shadow, on a legacy bright,

A testament to the struggle, for human right.

A farmer, soldier, statesman, and a leader without peer,

His wisdom and his fortitude, we continue to hold dear.

His heart knew not of malice, his spirit bore no guile,

In the face of strife and hardship, he met it with a smile.

In the pages of time, where great rulers have stood,

Clung onto power, for their own sake, not good.

Yet, Washington, a leader, carved from a different mold,

In the footsteps of Cincinnatus and Diocletian, his story unfolds.

No scepter did he covet, nor a kingly, gilded throne,

But served as a citizen, his humility well-known.

Two terms he served, not more, he would not be a king,

His example of restrained power, to this day we sing.

Not for him the allure of unending rule,

Nor the intoxication of power, used as a tool.

He sheathed his sword, and laid down his command,

To the cheers of a grateful, growing land.

He held not to power, he released the reins with ease,

A deponent to his greatness, floating on history’s breeze.

Like a guardian, he watched over liberty’s nascent light,

Then, like a humble servant, he disappeared into the night.