Bad Drummer
Not Everyone Can Beat a Drum
The stage is set, the spot is bright,
The crowd awaits the show tonight.
A snare sits silent, silver-rimmed,
Beneath a hall where lights are dimmed.
An eager hand steps up to play,
To drive the rhythm, clear the way,
Yet when the wooden sticks descend,
The seamless timing comes to end.
The cadence stumbles, off the beat,
A heavy, awkward, chaotic sound to greet.
For though it seems a simple grace
To strike a head and set the pace,
The truth remains when all is done:
Not everyone can beat a drum.
It takes a pulse inside the soul,
A steady hand to keep control,
An inner sense of time and space
That keeps the music in its place.
To hear the silence in between,
To hold the groove, precise, unseen.
Without that spark, the effort fails,
And noise, not melody, prevails.
And so it goes across the land,
Beyond the stage, beyond the band.
For human skill is varied, vast,
In different molds our gifts are cast.
No single path fits every mind,
No uniform design defined.
Consider now the surgeon’s trade,
Who guides the cold, exacting blade.
Where millimeters mark the line
Between a life and quick decline.
The steady heart, the vision clear,
The calm that masters doubt and fear—
Not every hand can hold the steel,
Not every mind can learn to heal.
Or look upon the soaring tower,
A monument to human power.
The architect with pencil drawn
Sees structure long before the dawn.
They balance stress and weight and beam,
Translating math into a dream.
Yet place the blueprint in the hand
Of one who doesn't understand,
The lines become a tangled maze,
A riddle lost in foggy haze.
The sea captain who navigates
Through icy tides and narrow straits,
Who reads the wind and reads the sky
When sudden winter storms draw nigh,
Possesses instincts sharp and deep
That keep the ship and crew from sleep.
Put someone else upon that deck,
And calm seas turn to sudden wreck.
The master chef, the poet’s pen,
The teacher guiding young minds when
The world seems dark and full of doubt—
Each calling has its way about.
The judge who weighs the law with care,
The blacksmith in the furnace glare,
The coder writing lines of light
To build new worlds within the night.
We often think that will alone
Can turn a glass into a stone,
That any task by anyone
Can easily be learned and done.
But nature weaves a different thread,
And guides each heart where it is led.
To force a passion where there’s none
Is chasing after shadow’s sun.
There is no shame in standing back,
In recognizing what we lack.
For when we stop the forced pursuit
Of talents that will bear no fruit,
We open up the door to find
The natural gifts within our mind.
The one who cannot strike the snare
May paint a portrait grand and rare.
The one who cannot sail the sea
May solve a complex mystery.
The world requires every part,
A million trades, a million arts.
So let the drummer hold the stick,
And keep the tempo clean and quick.
Let every worker find their place,
And fill their own distinct, true space.
Respect the craft, respect the drive,
That keeps our shared ambition alive.
And know, before the day is done:
Not everyone can beat a drum—
But everyone can find their sound,
Where true purpose and grace are found.
A monument to human power.
The architect with pencil drawn
Sees structure long before the dawn.
They balance stress and weight and beam,
Translating math into a dream.
Yet place the blueprint in the hand
Of one who doesn't understand,
The lines become a tangled maze,
A riddle lost in foggy haze.
The sea captain who navigates
Through icy tides and narrow straits,
Who reads the wind and reads the sky
When sudden winter storms draw nigh,
Possesses instincts sharp and deep
That keep the ship and crew from sleep.
Put someone else upon that deck,
And calm seas turn to sudden wreck.
The master chef, the poet’s pen,
The teacher guiding young minds when
The world seems dark and full of doubt—
Each calling has its way about.
The judge who weighs the law with care,
The blacksmith in the furnace glare,
The coder writing lines of light
To build new worlds within the night.
We often think that will alone
Can turn a glass into a stone,
That any task by anyone
Can easily be learned and done.
But nature weaves a different thread,
And guides each heart where it is led.
To force a passion where there’s none
Is chasing after shadow’s sun.
There is no shame in standing back,
In recognizing what we lack.
For when we stop the forced pursuit
Of talents that will bear no fruit,
We open up the door to find
The natural gifts within our mind.
The one who cannot strike the snare
May paint a portrait grand and rare.
The one who cannot sail the sea
May solve a complex mystery.
The world requires every part,
A million trades, a million arts.
So let the drummer hold the stick,
And keep the tempo clean and quick.
Let every worker find their place,
And fill their own distinct, true space.
Respect the craft, respect the drive,
That keeps our shared ambition alive.
And know, before the day is done:
Not everyone can beat a drum—
But everyone can find their sound,
Where true purpose and grace are found.
©A. Derek Catalano/Gemini
