I wrote this poem in four hours on July 15, 2014, the day I learned that someone well-known to my co-workers and me died the Saturday before. His middle-aged passing shocked us. I did not know him well, but I do know that he was a caring man who had to face significant change in his job and career. I could sense his pain, and I let it inspire this poem. It is better “said” than “read”.
Dedicated to those who struggle with change
Written for those who cause it
The world weighs so weary on those who serve.
It cracks our backs at the point where all things converge
into a moment compressed between “is” and “is not”.
It is in this place where this servant is lost.
Here the world tears at the things I have made
leaving small scraps of nothingness, wasted and fading
from memory, from record, from photo, from mind.
It is in this place where those served became blind.
“What was” is no longer, “what is” does not seem right
This moment confounds me and I can neither defend nor fight.
I cannot do harm. I am built only to serve.
But here, what you want and what I offer diverge.
In this moment compressed, in this place of new needs,
I am too tired to challenge, or change, or take heed.
So I choose to lie down and rest quiet on this spot
as I surrender my “is” and accept my “is not”.