Male Grief
A free verse reflection on "Male Grief"
Why is it men sometimes sit on a dark porch and brood?
This dark sadness is not unfamiliar to women,
but men seem especially prone to it.
Some call it Grief.
Why do men grieve?
They grieve lost dreams
Man is a dreamer.
He sees what's not there,
what could be.
He wants to invent. Explore. Discover.
Young men especially.
They dream of the future.
Seeing great visions.
A life full of opportunities.
The young man can become a great athlete,
start his own business,
raise three fine sons,
buy a ranch in Wyoming
sail around the world
in a handmade sailboat.
Most men hide their dreams from others.
Sharing your dreams is risky.
Dreamers are told to grow up,
settle down,
be responsible.
But as a man passes through life,
his dreams recede in the darkness.
They first become unrealistic,
then unlikely,
finally, impossible.
He now views his dreams
through the rear view mirror of life.
Could-have-been dreams.
So the man mourns.
His wife asks, "What's wrong,
you seem sad?"
He answers, "nothing."
He tells the truth.
There is nothing wrong...
that he can speak about.
He doesn't even know why
he feels so dark.
If he did, he couldn't expresses it
like she could.
She would finish his sentences.
So he goes out for a walk in the dark.
He makes something with wood.
He feeds the dogs.
Sits on the dark porch in the rain.
He knows.
He won't admit it, but he knows.
He will never climb Mount Everest .
He'll never own his own business.
He'll never have that ranch.
Never be a great athlete.
Never move to Alaska
He might make a handmade boat,
but he will never sail it around the world.
His dreams, now pipe dreams.
Yet, he says,
"One of these days
I'm going to sail a month
on one of those tramp steamers."
"Have you lost your mind?
What would possess you to do such a thing?"
He withdraws the dream
into the protective shell of his soul.
And the man broods.
So he reads books about sailing ships.
Collects maps of the ocean,
cuts out pictures of ships
and uses them as bookmarks.
He rides the Ferry across Lake Michigan
with his son.
They talk about the ocean.
And he watches his dream becomes a fantasy.
So, the man grieves.
He will never do it.
Relentless responsibility pierces his dreams.
The calendar crushes them.
So, he broods on the porch.
by Keith Drury
1 comment:
hey bob!!! this is TnT we passed your boat earlier this morning today is monday july 9 on the way to bismark we are here at the library and getting some fresh groceries. I hope all is well!! I guess we may or may not catch up to you on the river but if we do well have to catch up. See ya on the big lake Hoss>
Post a Comment