Poem: Ashes

ASHES

"If we don't have each other, we don't have anything." 

-- The Outsiders

Breathe into me and make me real
Bring me to life

(Wake me up)
Wake me up inside
(I can't wake up)
Wake me up inside
(Save me)
Call my name and save me from the dark

-Evanescence "Bring Me to Life"

I.

At the conclusion of our study

of The Outsiders, I found a YouTube video

that incorporated quotes from the book

against the background of

movie photos and Evanescence.

It was a fitting conclusion.

But we never know how music will

move people. We never know what

is on a young person's mind.  What

pain they carry in their hearts.

Soon I discovered a student crying;

not just a little, but a lot.

The song reminded her of when her

father suddenly died. She had the date

in August 2011 written on a piece of paper, 

large, in black Sharpie. She kept repeating,

"He just died" and crying, full of unremitting

grief.  She left to talk with a counselor, and 

came back shortly thereafter cheerful and

renewed.

We never know when grief will strike.

 

II.

I think it was this incident on Friday

that caused me to think of a student

from last year, one I haven't thought

about this entire school year.  Blonde,

teddy-bearish, crooked smile, blue eyed,

Tanner's handwriting reminded me of

my father's.  At one point in early fall

I thought he seemed to be carrying some

anger. I recommended the book

Touching Spirit Bear and he borrowed 

it from me, never to be seen again.

Because his house burned down.

He had been the "hero" -- waking up in 

the night and discovering that a fire in 

the attic of the garage was beginning to

spread into their home.  He got everyone 

out.  He never spoke of it in class, never

wrote about it any creative writing adventures.

Shortly after the fire, his brother survived a 

motorcycle crash.  Then Tanner

wiped out on a skateboard, knocking out

two teeth. 

The hits just kept coming.

A few days before Thanksgiving the class

was working on an assignment.  I looked up and

noticed Tanner had pulled his chair over 

near the window, with his back to me.

He was crying.  Right there in the classroom,

while the students worked, he was crying.

What sixteen-year-old boy would sit in

class and cry if not totally overwhelmed?

We never know grief will strike.

I asked him if he wanted to talk with a 

counselor.      No.

His friend Alex came over and sat with him.

When the bell rang, I told them they could stay during the 

lunch period, but they declined. Gathering their

backpacks, they walked slowly out of the room.

I watched them, two friends sauntering together down

the hallway, the grief dissipating in the width and 

length of the corridor.  

Never happened again. Nothing ever said.

Later in the school year, Tanner's dad had to get

analyzed for possible kidney dialysis. 

Alex would face his own health issues.  

Muscles not working, couldn't walk,

missed a lot of fourth quarter.  

When it rains it pours and sometimes it just doesn't seem fair.

III.

So now these young men should be graduating high school 

next month; what is left of these four years in ashes.

  I wonder if Alex can walk the stage.

I wonder how Tanner's family has healed from

all the trauma.  I wonder why it has taken me

so damn long to remember them, to think of them

and pray for their peace of mind, their happiness,

their healing of body, spirit, and mind.

It seems I have been the one needing waking up.

Because it can and will happen again.

Pain, tragedy, and trauma aren't going away.

Grief will strike.

I need to be ready.

hms