Back rested against post,
the figure guards the median –
poised with cardboard sign,
a simple plea for help.
Positions himself amid
gridlocked targets – usually,
I look away, disquieted,
but today I do not, wondering
what I could possibly give
this man that would lift him
from his plight –
surely others have tried,
and, yet, here he is
day after day
the same –
and
I am struck
with realization –
that we are not
all that different
he and I
both trapped in unhealthy
patterns, having adopted
personas that once served –
but now weigh heavily
with the stench of permanence
Does he not know it’s all
an illusion – a game we play
wherein we are the pawn?
I don’t know it either –
turn away, defeated.
(Frank is hosting at dVerse tonight and the jive is frustration and heartbreak.)
Sitting here in peace and warmth….with a cup of tea steeping. Your words remind me how easily I may have instead been huddled in a damp doorway surrounded by urine stench. It’s a fine line that destiny delineates. Thank you for yet another well written piece dear V.J!
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Thanks Diana. It’s a hard line to comprehend
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‘the stench of permanence’ – That alone is food for thought. How do we look at ourselves and others?
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Thanks.
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A beautiful piece highlighting what many of us fail to do – place ourselves int he shoes of others.
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Thanks so much! It’s a rare moment for sure.
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You are kindly welcome. Yes, it is.
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I so wonder about the homeless persons.. somehow I imagine that they give me something by accepting a gift… a possibility to off-load a burden maybe… great writing… that made me think
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Thanks – good to know I’m promoting thought
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Mea Culpa, you wrote for so many of us, we are not unique, this man with the sign, he is a message reminder to us all. I usually do not pay attention to men/women like this one in your poem. One day I surprised myself. I offered a $20 bill to someone asking for help. The smile and gratitude I received were priceless. What he did with the money was not important, seeing the sparkle in his eyes at that moment was.
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So many lessons to ponder. This same man stands on the corner day after day, so it must be worth his while.
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The stench of permanence…wow!
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Thanks, Mary. It does stink, lol.
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It’s always a dilemma. The Times had an article about a homeless woman who occupied a street corner for years…many tried to help her, some befriended her, but in the end they were all unsuccessful in defeating her demons. We all travel similar paths of uncertainty, but the threads keeping us from the streets are stronger for some than for others. (K)
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So true. For some, the streets are safer..
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Whenever I see a homeless person I remember that it could have been me but for a simple twist of fate. Sometimes I offer food or just stop for a chat. It’s not often because the homeless congregate in the city where there are more people and wealth. Out here in the countryside, people tend to forget about those less fortunate. But when I lived in the city, I was once on the brink and that memory reins me in. I love that phrase:
‘but now weigh heavily
with the stench of permanence’.
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Thanks Kim. I think the same, having left home too young.
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I think you have reached the turning point you speak of for you realised a profound truth – we trap ourselves in our self definition. Now that you have seen this things will begin to shift as it is a realisation that will comme back again and again. Fromm this point you are faced with a choice – stay in the trap or begin to shift. I think the shift will be energetic and in your thoughts first then that will flow into the body more slowly. Since we started talking about your health I keep thinking you need to listen to more music. I put my major point with CFS as being connected to listening to Sibelius day after day. His music touched my soul somehow and gave me the courage to begin to heal.
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Interesting, Suzanne. Music has never been a big part of my life (long story). I had this revelation on the way to visit with the psychologist, so I think you are right about the shift. I am more than this illness.
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Definitely. Realising that is the turning point. I don’t know music helped me so much – it took me out of myself somehow and into some universal space – but a space I could still picture in my own way. It sounds poetic but in a way, it eased my soul. I can’t think of anything else that would do that – maybe certain forms of guided meditation or looking at art that really resonates with your personal framework for finding meaning. Reading poetry might work too but I found the non verbal stuff worked best for me.
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Meditation works for me – guided usually. Being in nature.
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That’s good.
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An interesting comparison.of helplessness. Handicaps come in many forms.
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Strong poem. We’ve all been there…the sense helplessness, it can become a vicious cycle.
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It sure can.
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Oh, I understand those unhealthy patterns. We are all victims of our own fallacies in this “game we play/wherein we are the pawn”. Well-thought and penned.
-HA
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Thanks.
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Your words resonate because I had such a moment today on the way home from work. A new person, a youngish person holding that piece of cardboard and I wondered what circumstance brought him here to this situation.
Well done, V.J.
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It’s so heartbreaking, and not what we ever wish on another human.
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Can we help; should be help; does it help; can we even help ourselves, these are all complicated questions that require us to call into question reality itself. Most would say, do what makes you feel good, but is that always best for someone else. It’s no wonder defeat is often the victor. Excellent poem you’ve given me much to ponder. I echo the other commentary from others about the line “but now weigh heavily
with the stench of permanence” – Well done.
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I am so glad that my words conveyed the depth of the problem – the questions that taunted me.
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so on point! we are all trapped in a world we never chose or made, just an illusion of happiness – strong and powerful words
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Thank you, and yet I feel that there is a turning point, that only we can find.
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These are great lines –
“But now weigh heavily
with the stench of permanence.”
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Thanks, Jo
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Fascinating, actually. The poor/?homeless person’s struggle and your Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. We are indeed transformed by our suffering, and actively, as you said, adopting a persona. Yet we don’t know the story of each other but most likely, as you write, many have tried to help unsuccessfully. Does our helping really help? We wonder, and drive on.
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Yes…these are the questions. Can anybody but ourselves help us out of these places? I have so identified as the sick woman that I wonder what it will take to break out of this mold.
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Is it the persona or life itself that is the illusion? A weighty inquiry. Nice transition from drive-by concern to intense introspection. Homelessness appears a lot out here on the trail today.
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Such a sad condition. Persona is definitely an illusion, but some spout that life itself is.
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“Defeated, I turn away” are heartrending words. May tomorrow be a brighter day.
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Thanks, Beverly.
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This really grabbed me, “…now weigh heavily
with the stench of permanence.” And such a great exploration of a scene we are all faced with, and our choices to look away or to search for something we can share, and to question the value of it. Great poem!
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Thanks, Victoria!
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Nice descriptive phrase: “stench of permanence” I like how you follow up the wondering if he knows that it is all an illusion with this line: “I don’t know it either”. Very nice.
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Thanks, Frank, and I appreciate the tweet!
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