Today's poem is not literally true. If it were, it would be about the heat of summer ... like Southern Illinois was when I left home to go into military service.
I've looked back many times on that departure.
I had been awarded a scholarship to study at a large state university. Trouble was, it didn't include bus fare ... and I didn't even have bus fare to get to campus.
Oh, I had been assured that there would be part-time employment opportunities ... when I got to campus ... but I never got there ... not to that particular campus, at least.
Instead, I let the scholarship go to someone else ... and entered the only door open to me at the time ... military service.
It was certainly a turning point in my life, a new beginning. It was the biggest move I'd made in my young life. There were to be others. Many others. But none quite as wrenching as this decision ... which had been forced on me.
What I've tried to capture in this metaphor for growing up ... for that entry into what passes for independence ... is the feeling of loneliness that creeps in, the sudden sensation of isolation, the cold, of looking back, being torn between what was ... what is going to be.
The poem:
DEPARTURE
I looked back once,
seeing lights
grown small now,
and dim, silently
giving up their warmth
to the bare-limbed trees.
I kept walking
through the weeping snow,
my collar upturned
that might somehow
overtake me.
© 1995
(originally published in Midwest Poetry Review)
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Today's word:
lonelinessAfterthoughts ...in response to your comments:
Thanks for that early visit, Helen ... and my apologies for the late response ... It's always good to know I've struck a responsive chord with the reader ... and maybe there is another poem somewhere out there ... to sort of "drop the other shoe." Time will tell, I suppose.
1 comment:
This one really tugs. I was in that area when "the boys" went into the service and left an area and family they were used to.
Most of us have moved to the unknown and left "home" behind. This poem tells it all...or at least the leaving part. The rest is another story...and another poem.
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