Once I asked myself, when was I happy? I was looking at a February sky. When did the light hold me and I didn't struggle? —Deborah Digges
Finally the words failed to bring back A husband who shared your love Of animals and who died of cancer, The same disease your physician Father had spent his whole life Trying to cure, and you were left Bereft on the campus where Both of you taught, only to jump To your death from an upper level Of the Warren P. McGuirk Alumni Stadium. Having saved your son from his Obsession with guns and gang-banging, In this age of celebrity worship, Everybody will now read between The lines what you never intended, Missing all the jokes and hope.
Once I asked myself, when was I happy?
ReplyDeleteI was looking at a February sky.
When did the light hold me and I didn't struggle?
—Deborah Digges
Finally the words failed to bring back
A husband who shared your love
Of animals and who died of cancer,
The same disease your physician
Father had spent his whole life
Trying to cure, and you were left
Bereft on the campus where
Both of you taught, only to jump
To your death from an upper level
Of the Warren P. McGuirk Alumni Stadium.
Having saved your son from his
Obsession with guns and gang-banging,
In this age of celebrity worship,
Everybody will now read between
The lines what you never intended,
Missing all the jokes and hope.
[Disposable Poem December 3, 2009]
Dr. Mike
Gee, that little poem said it all. There's nothing to add.
ReplyDelete