Springtime, Beauty, and Sorrow

I've been insanely busy with school, and also trying to emotionally process a loss.

On April 5th, one of my poetry workshop students died of a drug overdose, either accidental or intentional. He was wildly intelligent, funny, good looking, and a magnificent writer. He was 22. He had just lost his dad 6 months ago, and he was an only child. I don't even know how you go on if you are his mom.

The final poem that he turned in for class (on March 31st) is below. I've read it so many times I almost have it memorized. Among all the beauty around me, all the purple blossoming trees and all the crazy-bright flowers, I keep hoping that where he is now, is even more beautiful. And that his dad was waiting to embrace him.

Rest in peace, Ryan.




"humility"

god
if he or she
or it
exists
is quiet

a few months ago
i knelt beside my bed
and for the first time
in a very long time
began to pray

despite years of
arrogance
disbelief
confusion
and doubt

i knelt there
at the bottom of the lowest of my worst

Alone.

Desperate.

my pride a dead horse
beaten
and beaten
and beaten

so I folded both hands
and eyes shut
head down
knees to the ground
mumbled a few brief breaths
to who or what I am still unsure

and
though I may be thought a fool
you know what?

it felt good