Not that it matters, but…
Twenty-five is way too young to die,
And death is an awfully permanent way to
discover you aren’t immortal.
Not that it matters, but…
OK, so it wasn’t your fault. Still, if you’d looked
Around, you’d have seen thousands of giant raptors
Piloted by idiots, all blind to see you coming.
Not that it matters, but…
So sorry to tell you this, but that macho hunk
Of iron wedged between your legs didn’t do
One damn thing to make you seem like more of a man.
Not that it matters, but…
I think you died of poor judgment, posturing, a lack
Of true belief in yourself, and most of all, selfishness.
The moment of death was just a logical outcome.
Not that it matters, but…
I’m so angry at you. Your family weeps, their lives
Changed forever as yours crashed to an end.
And I bet you never gave that a thought, did you?
Not that it matters, but…
If you weren’t dead, I’d want to hit you, scream at you,
Tell you to grow the fuck up. But that’s just me.
Not that any of it matters. You’re still just as dead.
***
If you are a fan of poetry, be sure to check out the dVerse Poets Pub. It's Open Link Night and you'll find a lot of great poets hanging out there.
And 25 is old enough to have some of those realizations and make better choices. How heartbreaking for his family. It's maddening though, isn't it?
ReplyDeleteWhat a powerful poem, Patti! Wow. He chose a permanent solution to a temporary problem and his family now will carry that pain for the rest of their lives. Such strong writing. It packs a punch.
ReplyDeleteNot that it matters, but....
ReplyDeleteYou have reached out and touched us.
Reminding us of an unnecessary death in our lives.
Fifty-six was too young.
powerful write patti...yeah that chunk of iron gets quitea few in trouble...sad to see them die so so young...
ReplyDeleteI saw your link on the 'Poetry Pantry'. I am so glad I clicked over to read this! So poignant and painful... Beautifully written from your heart.
ReplyDeleteWhew! This really packs a punch. And is sadly true. I've lived this one and felt these feelings.
ReplyDeleteI used to ride. I LOVED my motor. But I gave it up because I knew that the rest of the idiots on the road were out there to make sure I stayed on my toes. One slip and I knew I'd be done. So I quit.
ReplyDeleteI wish he had, too.
Truly. My sympathies to that family.
So sad. Your pain and anger is palpable. I am so moved by this.
ReplyDeleteWell...it DOES matter, dammmmit! You almost make me want to sell my motor scooter, which I ride EVERYWHERE from the Post Office in Naples, FL...to the State of Virginia. I'll think it over for 20 more years--hey, I'd be age 98 then. Make that TEN more years?!!!
ReplyDeleteStill feel like crap, so tired of this being TIRED! Going to a meeting in morning (on scooter, of course) NMW (No Matter What!)
Thanks for asking, give me a chance to vent--grin!
nuts. Well told. Of course you know, youth only learns by their own mistakes...sometimes it's a big mistake.
ReplyDeleteWell, I ride!
ReplyDeleteAnd I'd enjoy it lots more if I didn't have to ride so defensivly.
I can't quit because of other idiots.
Loved your post Patticake.
You ALWAYS Rock The Planet My Friend....G
Wow! Anger, frustration, so much angst and power in your words. 25 is way too young...but at the same time, 25 is old enough to know better...Amazing share
ReplyDeleteIt matters... It always does for every life left impacted by the one who is gone. You nailed it.
ReplyDeleteWell done. You made it matter to me.
ReplyDeleteTotally, totally inside things here.... emotions overflowing...... Anger is the part of death I have trouble with too.... this is beautiful...
ReplyDeletepowerful and heartbreaking.
ReplyDeleteHeartwrenching. Too many go too young...and worst of all is when such youth snatches it from themselves...there is anger in the aftermath, and sadness, and so much frustrated longing...fine display.
ReplyDeletemuch pain in this patti..so sad..and think everyone can understand the anger coming with it..
ReplyDeletesuch a sad powerful and honest poem!
ReplyDeleteI like this poem, its direct, frank honest energy. I guess that hunk of metal was a motorcycle? I've always wanted one but have never gotten one - far too dangerous.
ReplyDeleteSad story, brilliant poem. I feel it with you as I read
ReplyDeleteNothing short of brilliant. You nailed it, Patti. These days I'm beginning to think that dying before you are 85 or 90 is just to darn young ... Well, still spinning from some recent deaths and then the very public one of Steve Jobs.
ReplyDelete