Re-invention is a recurring motif of American culture and of the American psyche. God knows, I have been working on re-invention this past year. So I hope you can read this poem at a couple of different levels, including the personal.
I swear that years ago I read a poem in The New Yorker that sketched an image of the S.S. United States, rusting in its Philadelphia pier by the IKEA parking lot, as a metaphor for the nation. I have not been able to find that poem, so I wrote my own. Many people have been captivated by the images of the old ship being towed away to a kind of a sad end. Sinking her to create a reef is, to my mind, a happier reinvention than dismantling her for scrap metal.
I’m reminding myself that my mission here is to avoid commentary and look for encouragement. I hope this poem is not veering too much away from that mission. I suppose it all depends on how we will answer the question at the end of the poem, and what are the details of that answer.
S.S. United States
Here, in this city where your name was born,
you sat among us in your latter years;
as we wondered what might become of you.
Had your usefulness come to an end,
or was there more that could be done with you?
What kind of emblem have you become for us,
as neglect and rust crippled you,
pushing you past retirement,
and toward a more permanent end?
We felt a sort of faded pride in you,
our ancestor, reminding us whence we came.
Once, you were the fastest and the best;
once, you were shimmering and stylish;
once, you were young and strong.
And we never even sent you off to war,
which is not like us.
But time takes its own casualties.
I watch as the tugboats take you away;
towing you in front, others supporting your sides:
grand dame being eased to her rest;
preparing to submerge you
beneath waters over which once you sped.
Seeing what has become of you
makes me wonder what’s become of us,
whose name you carry.
Not so much neglect and rust;
perhaps a kind of collective dementia:
we can remember our name,
but do we remember who we are?
Can we remember what we were able to do?
Our record is still in tact; can we restore ourselves,
drawing on our past accomplishments
to serve a newer mission?
Can we sail again?
Sean Mullen
20 February, 2025
I enjoyed your poem Sean. Great job. Good questions. I pray as a nation we will sail again, but it may take time before we do.