Another Poem

Giggling, whirling on the tire swing,
Then retching, vomiting in the sand.

Making friends and losing them,
Thinking, “They don’t understand.”

Now as I discover the world,
I find a cold and lonesome boy.

Being often so happy and often so sad,
I know that life itself is pain and joy.

I wrote this poem while sitting outside the Northfield Dairy Queen on
a concrete picnic table in the bushy, dark green grass. When the wind
gently rocked the maple branches above me, I knew I was living a
moment of beauty, and I thought about how happy was at that time.

Then I reflected on why I was there, alone, in flight from the faces
of the people I knew. I was avoiding them as if paranoid, and this
desperation-tinged situation made me think of all the time I have
spent being very sad.

I sensed the poeticism of this violent flux in my well-being and
immediately felt the urge to write. I wanted to describe a pattern in
my life in which I am delighted and engaged at one time, and hopeless
and frustrated the next.

So, the first two lines refer to the visceral experience of parting
with one’s spaghetti after having a fun and childish evening on the
playground. (This happened to me in 2nd grade.)

Lines three and four refer to my peculiar and worrisome habit of
pushing new friends away before we can become close.

Lines five and six are about my quest for understanding. I love
learning, and this love has led me to an increasingly acute perception
of my own frustration, insecurity, and sadness.

But what’s the point in mulling over my situation? Perhaps I should
help myself through turning outward rather that inward. Perhaps I
should emphasize action rather than thought alone. Thought is where
rational action has its origin, but it is only a start.

Let’s act, then. Let me study “The Sibley Guide to Birds” now, and in
the process come to know about myself.