Too Busy to Cry
I told a young man that his best friend was dead today.
But there is no place to cry.
That will come years down the road.
And tonight I have to fly.
It will sit and rot inside of me,
Until once well and full,
The levee will break while I’m mowing the yard,
And I’ll look for a trigger to pull.
For some it’s away but for me will be toward,
And I don’t think you can blame one or either,
For some not a gun,
And instead a slow pour of liquids, and powders, and ethers.
My singular chance is that when the day comes,
I’ll bump into someone who’ll prop me.
And if I’m the man that I’ll want to be then,
I’ll let go the guilt and they’ll stop me.
I’ll never forget the look on his face,
Or the feeling we both lost to time.
Maybe one day, I’ll get to okay,
But tonight I have to fly.
Thanks for the shoutout thenewgreen - I saw this earlier and was going to write to yellowtops, but Hubski has been slow today as I'm sure you've all noticed and my comment wouldn't post. I'll try again now. Yellowtops, your art-poetry project is something I would like to see when it is mounted. There's a lot in this poem - and your interesting use of language is appreciated (either, ethers, for example). I want to mention in particular these lines:
You are talking here of the urgent need to be an empathic listener. It is so hard to be that listener --- who can respond appropriately to a troubled person. We have our own needs and frustrations. But you make it very clear in this poem that the right help can make a big difference. My singular chance is that when the day comes,
I’ll bump into someone who’ll prop me.
And if I’m the man that I’ll want to be then,
I’ll let go the guilt and they’ll stop me.
I like that accompanying art for this piece focuses on the aircraft behind the subject as he leaves, but while he is clearly leaving in order to look for something else he desperately needs. Pairing these pieces was a no-brainer. But also the piece should be seen as a warning to the listener, that there is a time where being what someone needs is impossible because it places some of the onus on the man being who he needs to be when help arrives. I was able to power through it. I hope others can. I know some won't.
Hey yellowoftops, welcome to Hubski and thank you for sharing this poem. If this is your work, then I hope it is fiction. It's definitely sad, filled with remorse and perhaps guilt. Whoever wrote this poem, I hope they never reach for the trigger but are rather able to find more functional and positive ways of expressing their emotions. Art is always a good start. So, my hats off to you for choosing poetry.
This is actually my poem. It's about the time where I had to tell one of my subordinates in the Air Force that his friend was in a plane crash in Djibouti and was killed. We were in Afghanistan at the time, and I took his flight because he was in no shape to fly that night, even though he tried. I used to feel like suicide was a way to finish the war for me, but I couldn't do it because of my obligations to my family. Events like this are powerful, and as the 'experienced mentor' at the ripe age of 26, I wasn't prepared for how much it would rock me. I told my wife about this particular event one day, and she made me feel better, but it took a long time to get where I am now. This is part of a larger series of 25 poems about the war that I've written for an art exhibition I'm working on. Each poem is preceded by an artistic interpretation of the poem created by a non-veteran, and each poem is followed by an interpretation created by a veteran. I'm still looking for submissions at this point, so feel free to PM if you know anyone who might like to participate. I'll post another poem tomorrow and so on until the 25 are out in the world so that more people can get involved if they'd like. The idea of the project as a whole is to compare the differences between the two interpretations, and to illustrate the transformative effect of war upon people. It is a response to the fact that very very few people fight on behalf of many, and to send them to do that fighting is a serious request that should be taken with solemn knowledge of what you are asking.
Yesterday I visited the Vancouver Art Gallery and saw an exhibit by Geoffrey Farmer titled, "How Do I Fit This Ghost in my Mouth?". In it, he tells the story of walking to work one day and seeing a woman walking across the street with a bag of groceries get hit by a semi-truck. He was the first to her side. She was flattened and there was lettuce and carrots on the ground. He continued on his way to work and didn't tell anyone about it. It wasn't until many years later that he awoke from a dream and recalled it all. The exhibit was haunting. sounds_sound -you may have seen this work? -Anyways, your experience reminded me of his artwork. yellowoftops, can you be more specific in what you are looking for? Thanks!This is part of a larger series of 25 poems about the war that I've written for an art exhibition I'm working on. Each poem is preceded by an artistic interpretation of the poem created by a non-veteran, and each poem is followed by an interpretation created by a veteran. I'm still looking for submissions at this point, so feel free to PM if you know anyone who might like to participate.
-Sounds very interesting. We have a strong contingent of poets and writers on Hubski. lil, _refugee_, humanodon, cW, ....and others I'm forgetting, check this out.
For the most part it's easiest to display oils, pastels, and other canvas based pieces. This will later become part of a book as the project gets completed, so we're keeping that in mind as we select pieces. For the early exhibition sets (non-vet art, poem, vet-art is a set for us) we are looking for any media, but it's going to be nearly impossible to fit an audio/visual presentation into a book later for example, and so that might play into what is selected. For example, the non-vet poem for this one is here on the artist's page.
Thanks Q. Welcome back to Hubski yellowoftops, sorry about that. Crazy morning. Still, I stand by the rest of the sentiment in my original comment.