John is having a difficult time right now. His wife is dying of terminal cancer. Up until a few days ago, I wasn't sure if he was even going to make it to book club tonight. A couple weeks ago, when I e-mailed him, he wrote back that things were "touch and go" and could change quickly. I know how much he loves his wife. In the acknowledgments of all of his novels, the last person he mentions is his wife. (In The Invisible World, it reads, "And always, always, to my wife, Reesha.") She's a lovely person, as well. I can't imagine having to go through what John is going through right now. I've only seen him once or twice this semester. My impression is that he stays pretty close to home these days.
The other special thing about tonight is that my pastor friend is supposed to be driving up from downstate to be at book club. I haven't visited him since last August, right after his move. I'm really looking forward to seeing him. For those of you who are long-time readers of my blog, my pastor friend was my partner in Manly Man Poetry Night.
So, the evening promises to be fun and, perhaps, a little melancholy. I hope to provide an evening of good conversation and food for John, to take his mind off his situation for a while. I hope to have a long visit with my pastor friend, who everyone is looking forward to seeing.
I have a poem for today. It's not quite as positive and uplifting as my others. I apologize for that. However, I have to take my inspiration where it comes from. I had a student in my Good Books class who died this semester. I don't know the circumstances surrounding his death. All I know is that the e-mail I received said he passed away "unexpectedly." He has haunted me for the last month. I think of my absent student every time I teach. That is the place from which this psalm comes.
Saint Marty will try to finish his book for tonight (but he's not making any promises). Please pray for Saint Marty's friend, John, and his wife, Reesha.
Psalm 16: For My Absent Student
Each class, your chair sits empty,
As if other students fear
What took you away from us
Will take them some Sunday
Morning, early, while ice, snow
Still line the shores of the big lake,
Glisten in moonlight like satin.
I received only one message about
Your departure, on a Monday
After spring break. It said
You were gone “unexpectedly,”
The word used when my wife’s uncle
Took his shotgun, went down basement
Stairs, or when a coworker’s son
Took to dorm bed one night, his heart
Going to sleep, never waking.
You have left an unexpected hole
In my grade book, gap in attendance,
A vacuum once filled by your voice
The first day, claiming you hated to read,
Played 24 musical instruments,
Hunted and fished like Hemingway.
Each class, I think of you in that space,
Air filled with drum, bass, harmonica,
Jazz, punk, folk, rock, a fusion
Of string and beat and wind.
It feels as if you are on some
Extended safari or deep sea fishing trip,
Tracking the blood of a lion,
Hauling a giant marlin boat side,
Like Francis Macomber, Like Santiago.
Your obit said you had a fiancé.
I never knew that. I never knew,
Will never know so much about you.
How you lay tangled with your love
In bed, talked of buying a duplex,
Owning a spaniel. Talked of children.
A daughter who had her red hair, math skills.
A son who could pluck out “Stairway to Heaven”
On your old Fender. Slowly. Quietly.
The way you did when you were young,
Full of expectation.
 |
| Saint Marty in The Invisible World panic |
No comments:
Post a Comment