I wanted to express admiration for someone who wasn’t getting as much as she deserved. I’d been reminded of Dorothy Parker’s poem “Penelope”:
In the pathway of the sun,
In the footsteps of the breeze,
Where the world and sky are one,
He shall ride the silver seas,
He shall cut the glittering wave.
I shall sit at home, and rock;
Rise, to heed a neighbor’s knock;
Brew my tea, and snip my thread;
Bleach the linen for my bed.
They will call him brave.
But the emphasis there is on Odysseus’s explorations, more than his devotion to his cause (however misguided or violent that approach).
Then I asked myself (being slow sometimes), what kind of versifier am I if I can’t write one for her myself? So I did:
SO IS SHE (AUBERN’S SONG)
He took a stand against the State–
It could be said he lost.
Prison’s torment, filth, and hate
Are what his actions cost.
Unbested, they can only hold
His body, not his mind.
But proud or not, he bears the cold
Without the loving lady left behind . . .
She starts the coffee when she wakes–
Half what she routinely makes–
Sits opposite the strangely empty chair.
Sighing as her breakfast warms,
She studies reams of legal forms,
Absorbing not a word without him there.
The puppy whines and licks her hand.
No way to make him understand:
“Why isn’t Poppa here to play with me?”
That’s the worst ordeal of all.
She tries to smile, she throws their ball.
He’s chasing pale diversions–so is she.
She works, and finds some small distraction
In the automatic action
Basic to a day-to-day career.
And sad reflection almost flees
With activist activities
To forge the liberty they both hold dear.
She stokes the furnace, mows the lawn,
And pays the bills, just struggles on
To maintain the facade of normalcy.
She shops and cooks and eats and cleans–
Those dull, mechanical routines–
The world’s proceeding onward, so is she.
Compatriots and friends of his
Come visiting and asking, “Is
There anything at all that I can do?”
They mean well, yes, but no one can
Bring home that much-missed, needed man
To have and hold, and help her see life through.
The high profile that he raised
Is publicized and loudly praised
By radio, newspapers, and TV.
Tombed within a living grave,
The crowds esteem and deem him brave,
But no one seems to notice, so is she.
Nobody seems to notice, so is she.
And while I named it for the person who directly inspired it, it’s dedicated to so many other people who’ve been in the same position, or know that someday, they might well be. They know who they are, and I thank them all.
