My favorite poem of the day was the one Meghan wrote herself for her friend who committed suicide. I thought it was brave of her to share such an important piece of her life with the class. This one especially touched my heart because one of my good friends from grade school jumped off the Y bridge near my house several weeks ago. We had been friends from a very young age: our moms were in the local "Mothers Together" group and we went to preschool through eighth grade together. I had learned that he had been having some trouble at college in Michigan, but I didn't expect to hear the news my sister told me in April. Apparently, he had been on medication for his depression but because he was so young, the medication triggered a reversal. He was in so much pain and depression that his clouded mind saw death as the only way out. He left behind him his mother, father, and younger brother. I know that the friend I had wouldn't cause his family this much pain if he were able to think straight. He was probably the most intelligent person I had ever known, and the most compassionate soul I had ever encountered.
I almost didn't go to the funeral-I don't really know how to cope with grief and thought I had done well hiding it away. I kept my face bright to my friends at college and then to my father as he picked me up from school to attend the calling hours and funeral. It wasn't until I reached the calling hours and saw the line that wrapped around the Church twice that I broke down in tears. It was amazing to see how many people this young man had touched, and I am extremely grateful for having known him in my life. I am learning to remember good memories I had with him and trying not to dwell on the tragedy of his gruesome death.
The poem I chose for class was one I found soon after the death of my friend. Titled, "The Music of the World and of the Soul," I found it referred to two types of music one hears. One is "Loud and bold and coarse," which I think refers to the noises of everyday life. Sometimes people get so wrapped up in their mundane lives, going from class to class, activity to activity, work to sleep. The other music, "Soft and low, stealing whence we do not know, painfully heard, and easily forgot," is our own voice. Jimmy lost himself in this voice, and he grew unaware of the loud voice of his family and friends who loved him. The poem reminded me that there must be a balance, and that even when I want to curl up in my own thoughts and remember my sadness and grief, I must stop and look around. The world hasn't ended, and my life is not over. I have to grow and take knowledge away from my experiences.
I found poetry day to be cathartic experience. Our small class shared poems about chairs and time, read aloud our line-by-line poems that turned out great, and even wrote poems that were about mystery objects. Most importantly, we shared our insights, our personalities, our creativity, and our souls. In a way, Poetry Day was not just a day to share the insights of the authors in their works, but it was also a way to share a piece of ourselves.
Jimmy Lyons: You brought so much light into my life. I'll
never forget you or your exceptional character. Love you!
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