Failure of Imagination
Thinking of Mirjana, who died yesterday,
And Dragana, who was 17.
You feel you are untouchable,
The offspring of your parents' dreams,
If you are Dragana, you realize,
(At 17) that you won't have
The next birthday, and you write,
(In hospital) a short statement
(As short as your life) on injustice,
To be read at your funeral.
Who read it? I can't remember.
At first (being 16), I refused
To go, but then changed my mind;
(The last thing she'll have, my mother said).
If you are Mirjana, you spend
A few measly months squirming from
Indefinite pain on your couch, nursed
By your old father because no
Hospital will take you (a hopeless
case, they never say but imply);
In fact, not even 911 will
Respond to you, the second-last
Day of your life, and only
An old people's home accepts you
(At 40), where the next day you die.
Alone, cheated, and defeated?
Hard to tell. I wish I could
Imagine all your grief finally
And redemptively evaporating
Into relief.
And Dragana, who was 17.
You feel you are untouchable,
The offspring of your parents' dreams,
You live forever, many times --
Your simple newness a guarantee
Of silly invincibility.
Then comes the naked waking.
Your simple newness a guarantee
Of silly invincibility.
Then comes the naked waking.
If you are Dragana, you realize,
(At 17) that you won't have
The next birthday, and you write,
(In hospital) a short statement
(As short as your life) on injustice,
To be read at your funeral.
Who read it? I can't remember.
At first (being 16), I refused
To go, but then changed my mind;
(The last thing she'll have, my mother said).
If you are Mirjana, you spend
A few measly months squirming from
Indefinite pain on your couch, nursed
By your old father because no
Hospital will take you (a hopeless
case, they never say but imply);
In fact, not even 911 will
Respond to you, the second-last
Day of your life, and only
An old people's home accepts you
(At 40), where the next day you die.
Alone, cheated, and defeated?
Hard to tell. I wish I could
Imagine all your grief finally
And redemptively evaporating
Into relief.
posted by Tijana | 11:19 PM
2 Comments:
But can we? or do we still see as an injustice from life? Why is it so hard for us to let go sometimes?
Not sure I fully understand the questions: can we what? Imagine the redemption? If this is what you meant, then I'd say, no, not always. Even if you feel the need to believe in some kind of redemption, compensation for the suffering and injustice, sometimes it all just looks so shitty that you simply can't (without resorting to some fairy-tale like scenario).
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