Recent weeks, months when sunlight
would always cast a shadow.
When in the night the moon could hold
promise in its lunar mystique.
Meanwhile the globe, a tangible parcel,
land and sea a vital reminder.
A pandemic defined dimly in our town
hall meetings seeking a silence.
Social distancing is a joke in a person’s
eyes until a family member dies.
Meanwhile life goes on, life with you,
give me faith to carry on.
©️ Scott F Savage 7/2020
We are often faced with a crisis when our reaction really sometimes has no bearing on how we feel deep inside. In meaning, we can find ourselves in retrospect wishing we might have reacted in a different manner.
Just this morning driving home from a bicycle ride, a young woman pulled in front of my car as we were turning onto a main road. My music was high enough that when I honked my horn I couldn’t hear it and so I laid on it a bit longer than I perhaps needed. As traffic allowed I eased past her and a look of shame swept her expression as she apologized with much remorse. I myself raised my hands in a peaceful gesture as traffic moved on. Later in the irony of traveling a busy road we pulled up next to one another at a light. We rolled our windows down and each waffled apologies and laughter and then went on our way.
When I reflect on that moment, my reaction is I wished I hadn’t laid on the horn as I did. When she reflects, she would rather she had not eased between two lanes without checking her blind spot. Life happens and we move forward, and yet there are so many events in our lives, that if we could change or be given a do over, wouldn’t we all take a few and cross them off of our list?
Recently I met with a former student, told her I had some ailments early in the week and decided to get a test (purpose being to appease my older siblings) just to make sure everything was alright. We exchanged thoughts about COVID 19 and went along our way. A few minutes after I got home, I received a call from her father, expressing concern, because his daughter already struggles with major anxiety and now is questioning whether she should go to work – having been ‘exposed’ in her own mind. I assured him otherwise and told him I was doing it for other reasons, and described my symptoms and am pretty confident left him feeling better.
But what about his daughter? What if in a week I am positive? What about all the people I have interacted with over the last month? I can assure there have been only enough to count on one hand because I am as afraid of this pandemic as anyone chooses to be, but I just cannot imagine being responsible for passing this on to someone else. If my test returns positive I will be mortified. Lesson learned? Keep your mouth shut unless you absolutely must reveal something important to another person. Keep your social distance and wear a mask.
So, back to square one, reflecting upon choices I have made in my life. I have given example of two experiences that will one – remain a funny story about clearly two people not at all interested in road rage. The second speaks to the need to be cautious with knowledge especially when it comes to raising the anxiety of a person already struggling with her own nervous response to life. Both have their own merit, and both are in my mind right now as I write this reflection.
God help me if my life were only asked to have bearing on those two instances. There is much that occurs in our lives every day, during different seasons, along our path to some wisdom we might pass on to other generations, not actively, more indirectly. My life as it is today is vastly different than it was even six months ago. More evident is when I reflect upon the last five years, the decisions I made are now seemingly irreparable, but at the same time, I am always hopeful for resolve.
I step back and look at how it is I have lived my life, how I have thrown priority upon others without often taking into account their own reaction to life’s events around them especially when it comes to direct interactions with someone I care about. Today, all I can do is realize and hope for brighter days ahead.
In the greater scheme of things, I’ll put on some Beatles and watch another storm roll into the late afternoon.
© Scott F Savage 7/2020
Throughout the epidemic,
I relearned the possibility
surviving alone,
granted a media laid about,
though the contact
the eyes,
the skin,
the gasps
soft utterances
all remained a memory,
sitting alone,
watched the masked land
appear before my eyes,
knowing our world has changed,
mine in a progression
far more true
ever imagined.
© Scott F Savage 7/2020
Oh we are heavy
these seemingly spring days,
retaining our sanity
so sheltered we stay.
What about love
that passion we touch,
the notion of eyes
we adore so much
A beautiful morning
an enamored vision
just out of reach,
remember her smile
Oh to know
the end is near
not of she and love and passion,
only this viral fear
There is a sweet sensuality is
this morning we live patiently.
© Scott F Savage 5/2020
Robert Frost wrote a poem about a rocky path,
where neighbors would meet and fix a fence,
something about ‘good neighbors’ came to light
the two of them isolated themselves along the path.
He also spoke of miles to go before he sleeps,
I wish I had that persona as I live my insomnia,
it isn’t about a passion for anything really,
it is a dreaded reality of my own isolation.
Hasn’t bothered me a lot this COVID 19 scare,
I am not the one crying in front of the news,
I don’t wake up wondering the day’s count,
No worry crosses my mind about those I love.
There is some parallel between sleep and anxiety,
we worry about the little things, big picture ignored.
Suddenly we are 80 thinking our lives exhausted
waiting for moments to let ourselves shut down.
Midnight comes to me and I wonder about you,
are you sleeping or wakeful ignoring life too.
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
I took a walk today,
a solo stroll,
another one,
an afternoon, an evening, the next morning.
I noticed a sunset over the horizon,
a cloud cover letting the early evening blend pastels
me, again enjoyed alone,
I took a walk today
well there was my dog in hand,
in these our inexplainable times,
there is no venture,
not a possibility,
everything has to remain a fantasy,
rather than an explained reality.
I took a walk today,
to get away from the news,
to allow my isolation to remove itself
from the quiet of my home,
I watched the sunset tonight,
and remember all the times
she and I could appreciate that just alone
together.
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
I was going to write a book one time. I walked around all my life thinking I had a book in me, and over time I convinced myself that not everyone carries that mindset around with them. I’ve never really been able to confirm that, but I am pretty confident, that people don’t stand alone – all people that is – on a sidewalk thinking to themselves that it is their responsibility to write a book.
I remember one time being shot down by a woman I was referred to because she was writing a book. I introduced myself, we talked a lot about writing, and then she said something to me that took me a couple of years to get over. She said, “how could someone possibly write a book if you’re not an expert on the topic? I gave up my dream years ago.” I was bummed and contemplative, reflecting upon my experiences over the years, and I felt like my dream was over. At home I never had any support for my writing, so it was always an uphill battle, because if not supported by the people we are meant to be closest to, there is certainly a discouragement that follows.
It is when we discover that someone out there does care about words that we find inspiration. However, what I have discovered in recent years, is it has to be for me. My writing has to be designed in a manner that lets me be, without worrying about other people’s opinion or for that matter seeking validation. I think it is ok to be disappointed when the person we are suggestively in love with doesn’t show interest in words.
I think that makes me question, really, what is love? In the writings I peruse, the lyrics from the artists I listen, the haunting scream to a quiet weep of a well composed violinist, the saga of the blues, in all the torment around love it reminds me there is a greater good in our lives. We can love, but if we choose to we must allow for the pitfalls and the wondrous peaks of euphoria.
I recently was directed by a dear woman to ‘be.’ It meant a lot and resonated with the life I am enduring today. It allowed me to both grieve and feel happiness that there is a normalcy in my life that is ok, that I can be this person that remains inspired by the life around him. The suggestion has left me rather ecstatic, and realism is slowly making its way into my lexicon of communication.
I have been living alone now since the beginning of the year. At first it was horrific, many nights I spent crying in self-pity, feeling the pain of the loss of companionship. I had forgotten how unhappy I was, when suddenly I was faced with experiencing losing even a formality in my life that had existed for decades. At the same time, I was experiencing loss outside of own societal norm. I was forever trying to make something right on so many different avenues that I really did fail them all. But as I sit here writing my words, in sort of a plea, it is me trying to find that ‘be’ might give me a place in the greater scheme of things.
We live in a horrendous time right now with COVID-19. I was alone for nearly two months when I didn’t want to be at all, and now I’m experiencing ‘shelter in place’ with everyone. I don’t know if I am alone in my thinking that what if I contracted this virus? Would it really strike me down? There are many times when I have felt I am invincible, not by personal choice but by the cards I have been dealt. So that being said, if I do have to survive here, my friendships, the people I am closest to help me understand that loneliness, or the feeling of it, is of my own doing, it is not anyone else’s responsibility.
I am not abandoned because an infectious disease is floating in our atmosphere. I have an ability to live my life. I have the peace of mind to understand that to grieve is healthy, and right now my grief covers so many avenues, a primary one that someday I will speak upon far more openly than can today.
For now, I will continue to try to find suitable ways to be.
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
the ‘b’ series
Oh, but the relief would be clear
is it for you,
for them,
they would think you are an asshole.
I disagree,
all my life everyone has known,
deep down inside,
that place we think no one sees,
a rather large big-screen tv exists
with constant memory,
a showcase laying out our soul for everyone
to use as a mockery
how to live, how not to live,
how to seek a shelter beyond
this norm.
What would it matter in a month,
lives go on,
sun rises, sun sets,
one less predicament,
reduced the world by a single
deficit,
now replenished with the birth of another,
and another,
and another,
so much innocence to make up for
the hardened heart
of failure,
walks around chained inside his dream
forever.
That occasional revelation
the scariest reaction,
knowing time is just my own now,
my time is my own,
my time is my own
my
time
is
my
own (yourself)
and the tears follow because maybe
that was never a desire,
it just happened,
now we are here,
wait, no,
we are alone.
In the midst of
COVID-19
the world will change
in the meantime,
no one will ever know,
we are a quiet reality
hidden within our own fears.
I worked in hospitals far too many years,
to know it is otherwise,
a cry for help,
or is it,
a lingering solution,
this ability to preconceive
is in all probability
the most frightening aspect
of making a harsh choice.
One has to wonder,
while we wander,
who is the loss,
where does the word respect come into play.
Is it the strength to make a decision,
or the weakness to not play the role.
(they would think you are an asshole)
Are we all tied together by this fuse
that will light itself whether we choose
to get any closer and test its worth
any more than we already have
time and again,
moment into hours, and days, and …
years of walking around like a zombie,
while the picture show plays
deep inside.
… and then there is the realization of so much need
outside ourselves
You are an ass ….
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
Wanting soft,
this touch,
if I could run tips of my fingers
along her brow,
that magic,
a sensation,
the ability to then connect with eyes,
to feel each other’s soul wanting to come to life.
Is it that close to finding heaven
when in each other
we discover
sweet less erogenous love
rather than simply
imagining a chance to arouse.
Do we yearn the touch of a friend,
a companion,
a lover,
a woebegone moment that might
replace the loneliness in our hearts.
I stand inside a climate of change,
to realize,
to visualize
a world without
touch
only the surface of an
imagination,
probably in time,
not capable of
altering a passionate
intrigue.
Yet stand alone,
and reflect
upon the beauty, that certain elegance,
the warm sensation of knowing,
someone does care
with meaning in their own
ability to
touch.
© Scott F Savage 3/2020
 | a quiet man on Haiku Love |
 | Yernasia Quorelios on Haiku Love |
| a quiet man on I Took A Walk |
 | Priti on I Took A Walk |
| Priti on I Took A Walk |
Turning trauma into triumph since 1981.
Sometimes writing poems let's me forget about the huge sums of debt I'm accumulating while at college
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