Sunday, April 1, 2012

A Poem.....Because Humility is a Good Thing.

And now for something completely different.


The other day I was talking to a young lady about life and stuff. She had begun to express a thought that is somewhat common to women in unhappy personal moments, especially in relation to men.  I basically finished the thought, and got a compliment for being pretty close to the mark.  I explained that I get a lot of conversations with women in straits: dumped, divorced, broken up, broken-hearted, deceived, and/or devastated.  Then I made bold and jokingly said I could probably make a poem about it and pass it off as that of pained woman.  She thought it was a good challenge.  As soon as the conversation ended I tried to pick up my thought current where I'd left it, and crafted up this dandy in about three to five minutes.  


Of course, the trap is that if it's good/accurate, then I look soft (or at least spongy enough to soak up a whole different gender's lexicon), but if I fail, then, well, I'm both inflexible in my writing style and a self-deluding twit.  Worst of all, regardless of how accurate it is or not, it could just be a really crappy poem from any gender's viewpoint, and that's the unkindest cut.  


I shared it with a single person who acknowledged all of the above fears, and subsequently thought —exactly because of them— that I should post the poem publicly as an exercise of docility and humility to kick off Holy Week.  Yeah, it's kind of like passing a note in class, only to have the teacher read it aloud when she intercepts it to provide maximum embarrassment to the note-passing parties.  Welp, pride is my most constant vice, and my least favorite to work on.  So, with all the possible ways this can go wrong, here goes:




“Poem of a Jilted Woman”
by Fr. Joseph Faulkner


No.
Sorry.
I want you to be miserable.
I want you to never be happy. 
You don't get that. 
You don't deserve that. 
You should never get to be happy again another day in your life. 

I was your happiness. 
I was the source of your joy and you lost that. 
You lost me. 
You gave me up.
You gave me away.  
You chose that. 
You didn't choose me. 
You didn't want me. 
You didn't keep me. 
You moved on. 
You moved away. 

So, no, you can't have that. 
You can't have that part of us. 
You can't have any part of me. 
You don't get to keep that. 
You shouldn't get to keep that memory. 
You shouldn't get anything. 
You shouldn't ever get to be happy. 

Cuz I'm not. 

1 comment:

  1. Sounds like everyone here is totally unhappy and miserable. I can see the jilted woman here but I could easily apply it to the teenager that I have to to say "no" to on occasion.

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