Why I Was Late to Class

So, today was my final day of classes, a bittersweet moment. For some reason, I started writing a poem in the last of the day and my college career, and it quickly morphed into something else. Well, this is in no way autobiographical, I figured I should state that up front.

Why I Was Late to Class

I.

I do not know his name,

That yellow shirted man,

Brown shoes, lavender tie

O’er charcoal gray slacks,

Now spread across the tracks.

This man, he came to die,

Can no longer think can,

Succumbing to his shame;

Can I look on and blame

The path that he just ran,

Which makes his widow cry?

Grief hangs on all our backs,

All bodies sorrow racks.

“Keep going sport, just try!” –

Small comfort for a man,

So to this place he came.

II.

I knew him not,

But if I did

What could be done

Could I have rid

His heart of hurt?

Oh, just enough

To help him breathe

When life turns rough

And skies opaque

(Can God still see?)

What could I do,

Save sit and stare?

Oh, can I do?

Can I? Can you?

III.

give praise

to god

not man

who saves

us each

in our

low states

hope not

in man

just god

give him

your thanks

guilt too

he’ll take

them both

and make

their use

go back

to what

they should

have done

at first

IV.

His body was a stick, stuck in the spokes and gears of great human efficiency, interstate rail, mighty commerce. Shame on him, throwing his square peg in front of steel round wheels. Shame on him, frustrating printed timetables we rely on as honest and worthy of trust; it’s not their fault, it’s his. Shame on him, his wife must now bravely face a world of paperwork alone. Shame on him, shame in him; shame on the rails, shame on the wheels.

His body was a stick stuck in the spokes and gears of great human efficiency interstate rail mighty commerce shame on him throwing his square peg in front of steel round wheels shame on him frustrating printed timetables we rely on as honest and worthy of trust its not their fault its his shame on him his wife must now bravely face a world of paperwork alone shame on him shame in him shame on the rails shame on the wheels

hisbodywasastickstuckinthespokesandgearsofgreathumanefficiencyinterstaterailmightycommerceshameonhimthrowinghissquarepeginfrontofsteelroundwheelsshameonhimfrustratingprintedtimetableswerelyonashonestandworthyoftrustitsnottheirfaultitshisshameonhimhiswifemustnowbravelyfaceaworldofpaperworkaloneshameonhimshameinhimshameontherailsshameonthewheels

V.

A hose concludes this show,

The blood is washed away;

His world’s last sign of woe

Diffused among the rocks.